_x000d_
I_x000d_
One bending low with load of life--_x000d_
That meant no joy, but suffering harsh and hard--_x000d_
And wending on his way through dark and dismal paths _x000d_
Without a flash of light from brain or heart _x000d_
To give a moment's cheer, till the line _x000d_
That marks out pain from pleasure, death from life, _x000d_
And good from what is evil was well-nigh wiped from sight, _x000d_
Saw, one blessed night, a faint but beautiful ray of light _x000d_
Descend to him. He knew not what or wherefrom, _x000d_
But called it God and worshipped. _x000d_
Hope, an utter stranger, came to him and spread _x000d_
Through all his parts, and life to him meant more _x000d_
Than he could ever dream and covered all he knew, _x000d_
Nay, peeped beyond his world. The Sages _x000d_
Winked, and smiled, and called it "superstition". _x000d_
But he did feel its power and peace _x000d_
And gently answered back--_x000d_
"O Blessed Superstition! "_x000d_
_x000d_
II_x000d_
One drunk with wine of wealth and power_x000d_
And health to enjoy them both, whirled on_x000d_
His maddening course, till the earth, he thought,_x000d_
Was made for him, his pleasure-garden, and man,_x000d_
The crawling worm, was made to find him sport,_x000d_
Till the thousand lights of joy, with pleasure fed,_x000d_
That flickered day and night before his eyes,_x000d_
# _x000d_
_x000d_
With constant change of colours, began to blur _x000d_
His sight, and cloy his senses; till selfishness, _x000d_
Like a horny growth, had spread all o'er his heart; _x000d_
And pleasure meant to him no more than pain, _x000d_
Bereft of feeling; and life in the sense, _x000d_
So joyful, precious once, a rotting corpse between his arms, _x000d_
Which he forsooth would shun, but more he tried, the more _x000d_
It clung to him; and wished, with frenzied brain, _x000d_
A thousand forms of death, but quailed before the charm, _x000d_
Then sorrow came--and Wealth and Power went--_x000d_
And made him kinship find with all the human race _x000d_
In groans and tears, and though his friends would laugh, _x000d_
His lips would speak in grateful accents--_x000d_
"O Blessed Misery!"_x000d_
_x000d_
III_x000d_
One born with healthy frame--but not of will_x000d_
That can resist emotions deep and strong,_x000d_
Nor impulse throw, surcharged with potent strength--_x000d_
And just the sort that pass as good and kind,_x000d_
Beheld that he was safe, whilst others long_x000d_
And vain did struggle 'gainst the surging waves._x000d_
Till, morbid grown, his mind could see, like flies_x000d_
That seek the putrid part, but what was bad._x000d_
Then Fortune smiled on him, and his foot slipped._x000d_
That ope'd his eyes for e'er, and made him find_x000d_
That stones and trees ne'er break the law,_x000d_
But stones and trees remain; that man alone_x000d_
Is blest with power to fight and conquer Fate,_x000d_
Transcending bounds and laws._x000d_
From him his passive nature fell, and life appeared_x000d_
As broad and new, and broader, newer grew,_x000d_
Till light ahead began to break, and glimpse of That_x000d_
Where Peace Eternal dwells--yet one can only reach_x000d_
By wading through the sea of struggles--courage-giving, came. _x000d_
Then looking back on all that made him kin_x000d_
To stocks and stones, and on to what the world_x000d_
Had shunned him for, his fall, he blessed the fall, _x000d_
And with a joyful heart, declared it--_x000d_
"Blessed Sin!"