Destroy the dawn, night would be mixed with light,
No night or light would be, but a new thing:
So with these slaves, who perhaps have dreamt of freedom,
Egypt was in the way; I’ll strike it out
With my ways curious and unusual.
I have a trouble in my mind for largeness,
Rough-hearted, shaggy, which your grave ardours lack:
Here is the quarry quiet for me to hew;
Here are the springs, primeval elements,
The roots’ hid secrecy, old source of race,