Evolution

Could we bat read the secret of the clod
         We trample on, and of the rock below, 
         Down to the centre with its burning glow, 
And trace, through all their dateless period, 
Star-light and fire-mist to their goal in sod,
         And tree and river, and how thought can grow 
         Out of such fiery seed-dust, we should know 
Why wisdom bows, and names that grandeur God!
Ending in soul this vast career of power,
         Firm-bound to purpose through all time, proclaims
A primal soul beyond Its utmost hour;
         Masked in all changes, latent in all name,
Through the long line of what we see and know, 
From that great soul to ours the electric pulses flow! 

Man worships power; and since from age to age
         The scepter passes into fairer hands, 
         Fairer and firmer—the gods change, and lands 
Grown gentler, shut their history's gloomier page, 
And gild new altars as new arts assuage
         Their savage Instincts—quench the fatal brands
         That smoked with blood at some brute god's command,
And where the despot reigned invoke the sage.
Where the red lava of the old faith’s ran,
         The rain and sun have nourished grass and flower;
For divine monster, now diviner man
         Wears the god-crown and holds the wand of power;
And our prophetic heart sees, far above
All shrines and thrones, Its own Incarnate human love!