Blind custom prods mankind to think of things
Material as tangibility.
All unperceptive of the glowing fact
That lies beyond the symbol and the form.
But let the thought now dwell in willingness.
In quiet wonder, on such noumenon
As music's source—what fount the secret holds
Of this sweet science discoverable by men
And put by them to uses of pure joy:
Or what the genesis of number is—
Each mathematical concept poised in mind
And having no reality save there,
Yet basing every structural device.
All roadways, bridges, airplanes, fanes, and spires.
Man's reason, thus directed, pauses now
And joins with humbleness to contemplate
How these two unseen present certitudes,
Reliable, and everywhere relied upon.
Point with assurance to a mightier power
And presence infinite.
And so we sight
The glorious Principle of all true consciousness,
The laws of Mind, our origin, our Life.
