Philosopher’s Song: To Milton
Withered moments unceasing,
pains bemoaned, pleasures untried,
curiosity lost outside the vast gray,
where paradise lies—What senseless pride!—
as whim pursued and Will denied
harvests power in its wake, cursed, elusive,
damned within; free will betraying free thought,
dissuading sight of Beauty’s revealing light.
Wonder thus remains—in meandering motion
through mazes of vainless desire,
blissfully uncertain, in Satan affirmed,
impassioned by Earth to doubt and discern—
He knew—only by Will may freedom return!