I stood musing in a black world



XLIX.

I stood musing in a black world,

Not knowing where to direct my feet.

And I saw the quick stream of men

Pouring ceaselessly,

Filled with eager faces,

A torrent of desire.

I called to them,

"Where do you go? What do you see?"

A thousand voices called to me.

A thousand fingers pointed.

"Look! look! There!"

I know not of it.

But, lo! In the far sky shone a radiance

Ineffable, divine --

A vision painted upon a pall;

And sometimes it was,

And sometimes it was not.

I hesitated.

Then from the stream

Came roaring voices,

Impatient:

"Look! look! There!"

So again I saw,

And leaped, unhesitant,

And struggled and fumed

With outspread clutching fingers.

The hard hills tore my flesh;

The ways bit my feet.

At last I looked again.

No radiance in the far sky,

Ineffable, divine;

No vision painted upon a pall;

And always my eyes ached for the light.

Then I cried in despair,

"I see nothing! Oh, where do I go?"

The torrent turned again its faces:

"Look! look! There!"

And at the blindness of my spirit

They screamed,

"Fool! fool! fool!"