Nations and mendicants, and shake your sky:
Would that you caught us singing as one man
That song I sang when begging days began
Hearing it in every beam on high:
“Man’s spirit-darkness shall forever die.”
DANTE
Would we were lean and grim, and shaken with hate
Like Dante, fugitive, o’er-wrought with cares,
And climbing bitterly the stranger’s stairs,
Yet Love, Love, Love, divining: finding still