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Who builds on Reason builds upon the sand
A fabric mortal as the human brain,
A fetich-temple crumbling 'neath the strain
Of Love's first touch, and razed on her demand.
Mind is a function, by Omniscience planned,
Dull as digestion, Earthly-bred as pain;
Thought's final triumph is to prove thought vain,
And Logic's life is quenched by Logic's hand.


The Spirit's intuition, strong and pure,
Alone soars fetterless to realms above,
Leaping in scorn past Reason's bounds, secure
Where sentient knowledge dies, true life to prove.
Emotion, Feeling, these alone endure;
Thank God! God is not intellect, but Love.