Follow Your Own Star!

As Little Flowers, Which The Chill Of Night Has Bent And Huddled, When The White Sun Strikes, Grow Straight And Open Fully On Their Stems, So Did I, Too, With My Exhausted Force.

The Heaven That Rolls Around Cries Aloud To You While It Displays Its Eternal Beauties, And Yet Your Eyes Are Fixed Upon The Earth Alone.

O Power Of Fantasy That Steals Our Minds From Things Outside, To Leave Us Unaware, Although A Thousand Trumpets May Blow Loud--what Stirs You If The Senses Show You Nothing? Light Stirs You, Formed In Heaven, By Itself, Or By His Will Who Sends It Down To Us.

These Have Not The Hope To Die.

Because There Is No Man Who Can Be True And Just Judge Of Himself, So Much Will Self-love Deceive Him.