XVII.
REALITY.
1
Reality's slave
From the womb to the grave,
Awake! awake! awake!
Wouldst thou nothing but feed
And sleep at thy need?
Awake! for thy soul's sake.
2
Art thou not a spirit
Ordain'd to inherit
The universe for ever?
And from birth wilt thou creep
To thy worm-tended sleep,
And from thy clay pass never?
3
The past, the to-come
Inform and illume
Thy present path, pale sleeper!
But thine apathy dull
Makes thy life-cloud more full,
And thy soul's shadow deeper.
4
From Reality's trance
Thy spirit advance!
Be dreaming! dreaming! dreaming!
Let thy thought's rapid wave
Far, far o'er the grave
Be streaming! streaming! streaming!