Bound ever to a great grey rock of Doom,
Striving with futile hands to rive the chain
Of woven fear, distrust and subtle pain,
While gaunt wolf-waves that leap from out the gloom
Of doubt's cold sea are snarling at my feet,
As nearer writhes the dragon of Despair
Foul with dank horrors of his caverned lair,
And like a clock of doom the dark tides beat....
I lift my eyes; Lo! sudden sweeps along
Thought's empyrean and the vast of dreams
One star-browed, Jove-like, human-orbed; meseems
His feet are winged with music, shod with song;
Ah, Perseus, should'st thou, pitying, leave the sky
To loose my bonds — then all the fear were gone,
Soul touching soul, trust from distrust were won,
Like god and goddess‘ fronted, thou and I;
Despair were slain, closed the unequal strife,
Thy great soul's strength should make weak purpose strong,
Thy hand should lead me up the slopes of Song,
Thy winged feet guide me to the peaks of Life!