“To the last I never recognized the hold I had over young men.”—Apologia pro Vita Sua.
NO more the sun may know the strength it hath
To stir the bark in spring with quickening blood:
No more a storm controlleth its great wrath,
Or doleth out the measure of its flood!
There is a quality of lasting youth
That knoweth not the force that gave it birth;
Some souls God pointeth subtler ways of truth,
As highest tribute to their lasting worth.
He hath in souls like thine deposited
A quenchless flame as calm and strong as dawn;
Across the world thy potent fire is shed,
Born of the “kindly light” that leadeth on!
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