[Written for the Sentinel]

Unfoldment

He worshiped at Minerva's shrine, and drank
Full deep at the Pierian spring. He trod
With joy the labyrinth of mystic lore,
Until he lost his hold at last on God.

In self-sufficient pride of intellect
He felt content. What need for more had he?
Then sorrow came, and with its touch laid low
His foolish pride. And so on bended knee

He cried aloud for God. The prayer was heard;
And in that hour of woe he felt God near.
His heart grew comforted, he knew not why;
He only knew he'd found what was most dear.

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