Que sais Je? (What know I?)

“What know I?” Sooth, my doubting Thought,
    Not much! – some lore of simple things;
Slight thistle-down of Will and Ought,
    That heeds the needs of life their wings;
Some hint of haunts unseen that wrought,
    The primal music’s golden strings,
Whose far, faint tones the listening ear has caught:

 Enough to hush the cynic sneer
    And the long wail of sombre doubt,
And on the timid heart of fear
    Send hope, where reason’s lamp goes out —
A ray from some diviner sphere,
    To [??] the low walls about
The hallowed homes and temples that we rear.

I know the eye has never conned
    The utter Deep o’er which we lean;
That, drawn by some invisible bond,
    They long for more, who most have seen!
Yet not for this will I despond:
    The yearnings of a planet mean
The mastering presence of a world beyond!

Am I a soul? Yourself may name
    The subtle thing ye can but feel,
That rushes [??] like electric flame [??]
    Through grandeurs where the senses reel,
And the loud passions never came–
    Beyond the Zodiac’s burning wheel,
To the calm Throne of Power, our deathless aim!

What know I of that Life Supreme?
    I know that from some grand Abyss
Flows on an ever-deep’ning stream
    Of finite lives, and over this
Dark earth a million star-worlds gleam,
    Far-sown through all th’ immensities,
With fire-writ messages in every beam;

And, say what may the jarring creeds,
    And creedless doubts, the heavenward road
is through the heights of noble deeds.
    And humble walks of love’s abode;
And fairest is that star which leads
    The wanderer, weary of his load,
Homeward, to rest in virtue’s flowery meads.

I know the world is all too vast
    For foot or wing to mote its bound,
Bus ever from the leagues o’er-passed
    A broadening landscape stretches round;
The drifting waifs we snatch were cast
    From anchored continents unfound,
    That, next to be unveiled, but ne’er the last.

Then welcome in my narrow road
    its frequent yield of scanty grain;
The days demand but daily food;
    Little and oft is ample gain,
A crescive good is boundless good,
    As the one drop by drop of rain
Becomes the ocean’s overwhelming flood.