XXI
Justice! the very sound brings back the throes
Of that tremendous season when Youth sees
His world collapse, and beaten to his knees
He takes the bolt of doubt, all that he knows,
That he knows nothing. Underneath the blows
Of thought I laboured long in labouring seas,
Pledging my soul to martyred Socrates;
And o’er night’s face the star of Plato rose.
This much of truth I still divined, that here
Was internecine conflict; only doubt
Strained to the uttermost a path could clear
To that last Deep where wind and tide give out,
And freighted Time drops softly out to sea,
A moving image of Eternity.
Hesepe, 12th June