Euthumism

If in the spirit glows no spark divine;

If soulless dust return to dust again;

If, after life, but death and dark remain —

Then it were well to make the moment thine,

Bacchante-steeping soul and sense in wine,

In lotus-lulling languors, fond desires

That heat the heart with fierce, unhallowed fires —

Till Pleasure, Circe-like, transform us into swine.

But if some subtler spirit thrill our clay,

Some God-like flame illume this fleeting dust —

Promethean fire snatched from the Olympian height —

Then must we choose the nobler, higher Way,

Seeking the Beautiful, the Pure, the Just —

The ultimate crowned triumph of the Right!