X.
Nay, that Positive Science methinks (why should Truth that expectancy bar?)
Through its prison-grate peering may hail the high-peaks sky-developed afar;
Not alone, by keen insight of all that the springs of Life-streams may affect,
Like the mighty Athenian Martyr, within its own realm unsuspect,
Some unguessed under-guidance discern—a supreme Diotima detect;
But the realm may enlarge till its laws—so consummate to deal with that ‘wire’
May the Soul-current's self apprehend, and show to our dearest desire
How its circuits invisible must through the Cosmos eternally range,
Or its negative Finite recharged to an Infinite positive change!—
Then its ‘God’—that ‘Humanity’ too, no prairie on fire would be,
Ever-dying,—but rather the world-wide unwithering Igdrasil Tree
The old Norseman conceived it; therein could its nobler divinity see!
From its furthermost fibre of root to the leaf on its uttermost spray
Still informed with the sap of true being—the sunshine of shadowless Day!
So were worth adoration perhaps—amaranthine—transplanted on high!—
Or, advancing from system to system star-peopling the mystical Sky,
Say its myriad forms never-resting, in purer Valhallas might vie,
Of ever-new excellence emulous,—spirits that ceaselessly prove
Their prowess in rivalry finer of loftier, luminous Love!—
