Who had no eyes to fight.
Yet it still seems very near, does that dreary age of fear,
When we trembled in our shelters at the noises of the night.
Prey to all the stronger beasts—mock of half the lesser ones;
Little, less, and lower ones
Marvelled at our shame.
Till from out our utter need came the thought, and came the deed,
And we won our way to freedom with the all-compelling flame.
Noises we misunderstood—dreams that came to trouble us;
Shades that shrank and lengthened