Paracelsus At times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages’ way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted out — not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again.

The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!

But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.

Where the heart lies, let the brain lie also.

O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.