And captains that we thought were dead, And dreamers that we thought were dumb, And voices that we thought were fled, Arise, and call us, and we come; And "search in thine own soul," they cry; "For there, too, lurks thine enemy." Search for the foe in thine own soul, The sloth, the intellectual pride; The trivial jest that veils the goal For which our fathers lived and died; The lawless dreams, the cynic Art, That rend thy nobler self apart.

Thou whose deep ways are in the sea, Whose footsteps are not known, To-night a world that turned from Thee Is waiting — at Thy Throne. The towering Babels that we raised Where scoffing sophists brawl, The little Antichrists we praised — The night is on them all.

A thousand creeds and battle-cries, A thousand warring social schemes, A thousand new moralities,
And twenty thousand thousand dreams! Each on his own anarchic way, From the old order breaking free, — Our ruined world desires, you say, License, once more, not Liberty.

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding — Riding — riding — The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

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Carol, every violet has Heaven for a looking-glass! Every little valley lies Under many-clouded skies; Every little cottage stands Girt about with boundless lands; Every little glimmering pond Claims the mighty shores beyond; Shores no seaman ever hailed, Seas no ship has ever sailed. All the shores when day is done Fade into the setting sun, So the story tries to teach More than can be told in speech.

Mystery: Time and Tide shall pass, I am the Wisdom Looking-Glass. This is the Ruby none can touch: Many have loved it overmuch; Its fathomless fires flutter and sigh, Being as images of the flame That shall make earth and heaven the same When the fire of the end reddens the sky, And the world consumes like a burning pall, Till where there is nothing, there is all.