Элла Уилкокс (Ella Wheeler Wilcox)

Progress

Let there be many windows to your soul, 
That all the glory of the universe 
May beautify it. Not the narrow pane 
Of one poor creed can catch the radiant rays 
That shine from countless sources. Tear away 
The blinds of superstition; let the light 
Pour through fair windows broad as truth itself 
And high as God. 
Why should the spirit peer 
Through some priest-curtained orifice, and grope 
Along dim corridors of doubt, when all 
The splendor from unfathomed seas of space 
Might bathe it with the golden waves of Love? 
Sweep up the debris of decaying faiths; 
Sweep down the cobwebs of worn-out beliefs, 
And throw your soul wide open to the light 
Of Reason and of knowledge. Tune your ear 
To all the wordless music of the stars, 
And to the voice of Nature; and your heart 
Shall turn to truth and goodness as the plant 
Turns to the sun. A thousand unseen hands 
Reach down to help you to their peace-crowned heights, 
And all the forces of the firmament 
Shall fortify your strength. Be not afraid 
To thrust aside half-truths and grasp the whole.

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