So let me fail, for where I could succeed
How mean the quest, a climber gazing down
From the low vantage of some petty hill.
But chance success would be the gambler’s thrill
Who plays with God for worlds, and wins indeed
The whole of Paradise for half-a-crown!
III
I Have no room for jealous gods, and find
No ring of joy or laughter in the Creed,
Nor shall my great possession be resigned
In fear or favour of my spirit’s need.
For joy is mine, and mine the teeming years
Unfettered in a world impassionate;
Not mine a sorrowed Calvary of tears
Where love was vassal to the lords of hate.
Let others bow before a God unknown
Enshrined in words they dimly understand.
Let every man make Paradise his own—
My Goddess breathes and leads me by the hand
O hush! I dare not speak of it alone,
’Tis all too wonderful and strangely planned!
IV
Day after day my growing pinions beat
Impatiently. Yet, in a place unclean
I sought the dwarfed, the petty and obscene,
And aped the clownish mummers of the street;
Till suddenly the world grew strangely sweet,
All eager at a touch, and thrilling-keen;
With half-forgotten hands I strove unseen
To mould a little planet at your feet.
You spoke and there was light, and slowly grew
My teeming world of verse, a brotherhood
Of music, thought, and wonder, born anew,
Alive, aglow, in every varied mood.
And when the waking truth is bursting through
I feel you bend to see that all is good.