The Star of Truth.
65
And enter thus with reckless haste
Upon that barren land of waste,
Where nothing is, or is to be.
But barren waste eternally.
And o'er this waste — a pathless plain —
1 stumble on, to find again
Old clews that gather up the new,
Old faiths baptized in morning dew.
Then, all at once, I see the white,
Still shining of that ray of light,
Where truth abides, — that steadfast star
Toward which my steps have followed far.
And forward, forward once again
I leave behind the pathless plain;
Blown onward by resistless breath
To find the clews of life, in death.
