Emma Tatham,
The Dream of Pythagoras and Other Poems
“ I could well Have drown'd my spark of immortality In drunkeness of peace; I knew not yet The warrior life of virtue, and the high And honourable strife and storm that cleanse And exercise her pinions. I was now To learn the rapture of struggle made For immortality and truth; therefore The ocean toss'd me to his mountain chains, Bidding me front the tempest; fires of heaven Were dancing o'er his cataracts, and scared His sounding billows; glorious thunders roll'd Beneath, above, around; the strong winds fought, Lifting up pyramids of tortured waves, Then dashing them to foam. ”
