University of Virginia Library

QUICKSAND YEARS THAT WHIRL ME
I KNOW NOT WHITHER.

QUICKSAND years that whirl me I know not whither,
Your schemes, politics, fail — lines give way — substan-     ces mock and elude me;
Only the them I sing, the great and strong-possess'd      soul, eludes not;
One's-self, must never give way — that is the final sub-     stance — that out of all is sure;
Out of politics, triumphs, battles, death — what at last      finally remains?
When shows break up, what but One's-Self is sure?

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