Of all the seers and watchers, early and late
Waiting with eager blood-hot eyes the light
Rising afar in some untrodden East,
Full of divine and precious influence,
Calling, like Mezzuin from his minaret,
The thankless world to worship and be glad;
Of all the patient thinkers of the earth
Who talk'd with Wisdom like familiar friends,
Until their voices unaccustom'd grew,
And men stared blankly at them as they pass'd:
I do bethink me of them all, and know
How each walk'd through his labyrinth of scorn,
And was accounted mad before all men.
But patience!--Winter bears within its breast
The nascent seeds of golden harvest-time.

This only shall I tell you of my ways--
Straying, now here, now there, 'mid science' wealth,
I have discover'd a vast hidden power--
A power that perfected shall surely work
Great revolution in all human laws,--
Where stop its courses I as yet know not;
'Tis to me like the sun, that all the day
Shines godlike in my vision, and, at night,
Though darkness hide its brightness, still, I feel,
Shines on in glory over other spheres;
It is a power beneficent and good,
That grants to spirit infinite control
Over all matter, and that frees the soul
From its flesh shackles, and its sensuous means.