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She makes no laws ; she utters no commands ;

Only she establishes her eternal conditions. The Thun- ders and the Waters, Night and Day; Health and Death; the inevitable Seasons praise her.

Her ultimate condition is freedom.

By freedom, she has created Man's wondrous body,

And shall create his wondrous soul.

Continually, without pause, he has urged toward his soul.

Noble is the struggle and great the hope.

His soul, the soul of Nature and he its nursery.

The best to live ; the worse to die.

Not worms and butterflies, but butterflies from worms ;

Body and soul, one ultimate progression.

The hunger of the body to be fed, and the hunger of the soul to be fed.

Food, the mother of the body and Leisure, the mother of the soul.

POET: The air is thick with tired eyes which look hungrily toward me.

TRUTH: The eyes of the poor ; disinherited before they were born. Who has right to partition out the sea, fence the invisible

air, Or claim monopoly in the benediction of the rain? Is the solid earth less the general and maternal gift than

these? A monster devours you.

POET: Where is this monster?

TRUTH: Within yon azure vault ; upon the moving air ; In Earth's deepest heart ; In the brooding alcoves of the Forest Whose columns are rooted on the breast of Time ; Upon the wide, rebellious sea.

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