Epilogue

And all their passionate hearts are dust,
And dust the great idea that burned
In various flames of love and lust
Till the world’s brain was turned.

God, moving darkly in men’s brains,
Using their passions as his tool,
Brings freedom with a tyrant’s chains
And wisdom with the fool.

Blindly and bloodily we drift,
Our interests clog our hearts with dreams,
God make my brooding soul a rift
Through which a meaning gleams.