Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/157

Rh Your spirit breathes a mist upon our world, Lady, and like a rain to pierce the roof And drench the bed where toil-tossed man lies curled In his hard-earned oblivion! You are few, Scattered, ill-counselled, blinded: for a proof,
 * I have lived, and have known none like you.

We may be blind to men, sir: we embrace A future now beyond the fowler's nets. Though few, we hold a promise for the race That was not at our rising: you are free To win brave mates; you lose but marionnettes.
 * He who's for us, for him are we.