Classic Poem

When I look upon the array of stars and think
Of the infinite distances and the
Multitude of worlds
I marvel that there be one who cares
For what another thinks;
Or in the bigness of this universe there be
A soul so small as to heed the multitude,
Or feel the sting of ignorant opinion.
For is not my soul, my very own, one and alone
And infinite?
And shall I not be proud of such a star;
Refusing to be ordered?
I know for every one, were he but bold,
Surely along some starry path,
His soul awaits him.

I, too, am part of the cosmos
And am entitled to sweep free in my orbit,
As the stars in theirs;
Though I take my place with this little lizard
As one of the motes of Creation.
Dimly, I begin to know that Nature
Has designed freedom for every one,
Without exception;
To each the possession of his own soul,
A mysterious cosmos.
These thoughts penetrate me,
Even as the insistent sap penetrates
To the very tips of the leaves,
Even as the sun of the Desert pierces my marrow.
And I know the order of the universe
And the salvation of the world is freedom.