Stoop’st thou to me?” although his lips were mute,
His eyes inquired. The Shining One replied:
“Thy Book, thy birth, life of thy life am I,
Son of thy soul, thy youth’s forgotten fruit.
We two go up to judgment side by side.”
THE TORCH-RACE
Brave racer, who hast sped the living light
With throat outstretched and every nerve astrain,
Now on thy left hand labours gray-faced Pain,