Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/27

 Sharpens his senses, till within
 * The twilight mazes of his brain,

Like embryos within the womb, Thought pushes feelers through the gloom. And slowly in the fateful race
 * It grows unconscious, till at length

The helpless savage dares to face
 * The cave-bear in his grisly strength;

For stronger than its bulky thews He feels a force that grows with use. From age to dumb unnumbered age,
 * By dim gradations long and slow,

He reaches on from stage to stage,
 * Through fear and famine, weal and woe

And, compassed round with danger, still Prolongs his life by craft and skill. With cunning hand he shapes the flint.
 * He carves the horn with strange device,