Part I. SAINT AND SCEPTIC

"What merest whim

Seems all this poor endeavor after Fame

To one who keeps within his steadfast aim

A love immortal, an Immortal too!

Look not so'wildered, for these things are true

And never can be borne of atomics

That buzz about our slumbers like brain-flies

Leaving us fancy-sick. No, I am sure

My restless spirit never could endure

To brood so long upon one luxury.

Unless it did, though fearfully, espy

A HOPE BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DREAM!"

KEATS.