Classic Poem

Sight is given me beyond sight,
Did I see only what I see then were seeing death,
But I see what I do not see, therefore am I alive living or dead
If earth is so bad, why do I seek or hope to make it better?
Earth is not bad — it is not bad or good — it is what it is,
And I, who am what I am also, pass with good and bad boon years of wanton confidence.

Dear soul, my words may be a riddle, but the fact is no riddle at all,
My father, pursued by his, pursues me, as I, with love and breaking heart, pursue my browneyed son dead this year,
But none are pursued to defeat, all are pursued to victory,
And I, with one hand backward offered into the shadow and one forward also into shadow,
Though seeing nothing, find both hands grasped in tender recognition

Wherefore, O you who suffer tyranny and hear the bark of the hounds,
And you, O wounded spirit, who distrust the crowding fates,
And you, O dreaming singers, who vision the issues of despair,
Take back all foul reproach from space and time,
Recall all doubts, all hasty accusations,
Recasting in your image the universal love.