A New Pilgrimage, XXXIV

O fool ! O false ! I have abandoned Heaven,
And sold my wealth for metal of base kind.
O frail disciple of a fair creed given
For human hope when all the world was blind !
What was my profit ? Freedom of the mind,
A little pleasure of the years, some scars
Of lusty youth, and some few thoughts enshrined
In worthier record of my manhood's years.
All else is loss, and unredeemed distress ;
The voiceful seasons uninvited come,
And bring their tribute of new flowers, and pass :
Only the reason of the world is dumb ;
Nor does God any more by word or sign
Speak to our rebel hearts of things divine.