XXV
But thy peculiar greatness more than these,
By thinking pregnant with creative art,
Subduing chance and moulding part to part,
Hath Cosmic in it, Plato, harmonies
That wake the dim immortal memories
We bring from the Eternal, whence we start
The round of Being, bearing in our heart
The echoes of the everlasting seas.
Here stands no accidental word. And so,
While theme with theme grows twisted and entwined,
Is freedom perfected. We gaze, and lo,
The argument is off before the wind,
Like some great trireme tacking endlessly,
Yet ever headed for Eternity.
Hesepe, 14th June