Poo’erless to reach the general mind,
Poo’erless to reach the neist star e’en,
That as a pairt o’ts sel’ is seen,
And only men can tell between.
Yet I exult oor sang has yet
To grow wings that’ll cairry it
Ayont its native speck o’ grit,
And I exult to find in me
The thocht that this can ever be,
A hope still for humanity.