I give back to the earth what the earth gave, <br />All to the furrow, none to the grave, <br />The candle's out, the spirit's vigil spent; <br />Sight may not follow where the vision went. <br /> <br />I leave you but the sound of many a word <br />In mocking echoes haply overheard, <br />I sang to heaven. My exile made me free, <br />from world to world, from all worlds carried me. <br /> <br />Spared by the furies, for the Fates were kind, <br />I paced the pillared cloisters of the mind; <br />All times my present, everywhere my place, <br />Nor fear, nor hope, nor envy saw my face. <br /> <br />Blow what winds would, the ancient truth was mine, <br />And friendship mellowed in the flush of wine, <br />And heavenly laughter, shaking from its wings <br />Atoms of light and tears for mortal things. <br /> <br />To trembling harmonies of field and cloud, <br />Of flesh and spirit was my worship vowed. <br />Let form, let music, let all quickening air <br />Fulfil in beauty my imperfect prayer.<br /><br />George Santayana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poet-s-testament/
