Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/166



Despite the wisdom of the Past,
 * From lips prophetic or divine,

Men wander in this world aghast,
 * And ask another saving sign.

They seek cold Science in her cell,
 * With front of brass and feet of clay;

And this is what her sibyls tell:
 * “The man who labors need not pray!”

Starving upon this soulless rind,
 * The pilgrim, weary with his strife,

Cries to the proud poetic mind:
 * “Sing to us, seer, the psalm of life!”

The bard, with sensual lore endowed,
 * Unclasps his dreamy Book of Fate,

And answers: “Let the famished crowd
 * First learn to labor and to wait!”