Those aërial osier bridges Swung from Cordilleran ridges, O'er a gulf of dizzy blue, That the native of Peru Treads so nimbly, where most querulous Souls would balk the passage perilous— Like to them our reason is, Swung across a wild abyss. Daring spirits grasp its strands With their immaterial hands. All save recreants know its urge, Venturing from the hither verge. Only spirits crystal pure Find their footing quite secure. Souls clear-gold, burnt clean of dross, Rapturous-swift may only cross. For mere armament of mind Plunges from it to the blind Mists below, and mere emotion Reels to plumb the selfsame ocean. Frail its subtle silver cords Woven of a million words; Frailer yet its guardian ghosts, Pale in multitudinous hosts! Tenuous, beauty-curved, and bright, So it sways across our night, Clouded height to clouded height. So I see it glorious For the single soul and mind And the heart victorious With the passion of mankind. Every strand is finer gold Than a thousand tomes have told. Faiths and fears, delight, despair, Wove it out of thinnest air. Brain and heart and spirit breath Breathed it o'er the gulfs of death, As a spider's web is spun, Glistering through floods of sun, Glimmering through wracks of cloud To a cliff how brightly browed, How superb a citadel, Scarcely any thought can tell. Oh, the challenge, splendidly Ringing from Eternity O'er the gulf's profundity! Love, dare thou the gulf with me! |