Half-burned-out, all but quite-quenched wicks o' the lamp
Stationed for temple-service on this earth,
These indeed let him breathe on and relume!
For such man's feat is, in the due degree,
—Mimic creation, galvanism for life,
But still a glory portioned in the scale.
Why did the mage say—feeling as we are wont
For truth, and stopping midway short of truth,
And resting on a lie—"I raise a ghost"?
"Because," he taught adepts, "man makes not man.