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A fixed and narrow power with rigid forms, He saw the empire of the little life, An unhappy corner in eternity. It lived upon the margin of the Idea Protected by Ignorance as in a shell. Then, hoping to learn the secret of this world He peered across its scanty fringe of sight, To disengage from its surface-clear obscurity The Force that moved it and the Idea that made, Imposing smallness on the Infinite, The ruling spirit of its littleness, The divine law that gave it right to be, Its claim on Nature and its need in Time. He plunged his gaze into the siege of mist That held this ill-lit straitened continent Ringed with the skies and seas of ignorance And kept it safe from Truth and Self and Light. As when a searchlight stabs the Night's blind breast And dwellings and trees and figures of men appear As if revealed to an eye in Nothingness, All lurking things were torn out of their veils And held up in his vision's sun-white blaze. A busy restless uncouth populace Teemed in their dusky unnoted thousands there. In a mist of secrecy wrapping the world-scene The little deities of Time's nether act Who work remote from Heaven's controlling eye, Plotted, unknown to the creatures whom they move, The small conspiracies of this petty reign Amused with the small contrivings, the brief hopes And little eager steps and little ways 
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