A thousand Dreams within me softly burn

My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?

What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn

In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.

There shall be poets! When woman's unmeasured bondage shall be broken, when she shall live for and through herself, man--hitherto detestable--having let her go, she, too, will be poet! Woman will find the unknown! Will her ideational worlds be different from ours? She will come upon strange, unfathomable, repellent, delightful things; we shall take them, we shall comprehend them.

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.