noon
Had I been asked , before I left my bed Of shapeless dust , what clothing I would wear , I would have said , More angel and less worm ; But for their sake who are even such as I , Of the same mingled blood , I would not choose To hate that meaner portion of myself Which makes me brother to the least of men . I dare not be a coward with my lips Who dare to question all things in my soul ; Some men may find their wisdom on their knees , Some prone and grovelling in the dust like slaves ; Let the meek glow-worm glisten in the dew ; I ask to lift my taper to the sky As they who hold their lamps above their heads , Trusting the larger currents up aloft , Rather than crossing eddies round their breast , Threatening with every puff the flickering blaze . My life shall be a challenge , not a truce ! This is my homage to the mightier powers , To ask my boldest question , undismayed By muttered threats that some hysteric sense Of wrong or insult will convulse the throne Where wisdom reigns supreme ; and if I err , They all must err who have to feel their way As bats that fly at noon ; for what are we But creatures of the night , dragged forth by day , Who needs must stumble , and with stammering steps Spell out their paths in syllables of pain ? Thou wilt not hold in scorn the child who dares Look up to Thee , the Father , -- dares to ask More than Thy wisdom answers . From Thy hand The worlds were cast ; yet every leaflet claims From that same hand its little shining sphere Of star-lit dew ; thine image , the great sun , Girt with his mantle of tempestuous flame , Glares in mid-heaven ; but to his noontide blaze The slender violet lifts its lidless eye , And from his splendor steals its fairest hue , Its sweetest perfume from his scorching fire . I may just as well stop here as anywhere , for there is more of the manuscript to come , and I can only give it in instalments .