Upon the fractured path of old,

  I wandered when the world was young,

With eyes agleam and wildness bold,

And songs of phantom light unsung.

No shadow cast a chill of dread,

No misery had touched the air;

By stars and secret impulse led,

I walked the trail without a care.

I sought the others of my kind,

  Across the moor through mist and glen,

To bind the soul and blend the mind

   Beyond the narrow rules of men.

For well I knew that song and art

  Could strike a chord to banish strife,

And weave a web from heart to heart

  To spark dying embers of this life.

Though seasons drift and shadows grow,

The ancient fire is burning still;

The boy who walked the mist below

  Yet dances on the windy hill.

Now years have flown, the hair is grey,

Yet still the child leaps up in pride;

 I listen close, I skip and play,

With phantom graces at my side.

The trail is long, the skies are stark,

   But truth has pierced the heavy gloom:

We strike a match against the dark,

And make the barren desert bloom.

For all across this rolling sphere,

Through stormy gale and thunderous skies,

The tribes of earth cast off their fear

With deep born smiles and flashing eyes.

The spell is woven, fierce and free,

By secret bonds we cannot see—

From peak to plain

From shore to sea,

I am in you, and you in me.