Walks like him, with sin-veil’d sight,—
Sees, like him, the gathering night,
All his gain of knowledge shares,
All his loss of blindness bears.
I have boldly dared to plan
The refashioning of Man,—
—There’s my work,—Sin’s image grown,
Whom God moulded in His own.—
Forth! to wider fields away!
Here’s no room for battle-play!