Page:Poems·from·the·Port·Hills-Blanche·Edith·Baughan-1923.pdf/29

 Its Inner Light to reinforce, and slay Its Dark, of sloth and doubt. The glitter of this outer morning-glee How hast thou inly re-illumed for me!— Thou, who for love of Light, Could’st even light abhor, And whose firm soul, for us who press through night, Has lit one lanthorn more!