Sonnet Xiii Poem by Philip Henry Savage

HIGH on a sunward-mounting precipice
Edged with a cloud that all before me ran,
I backward gazed and pictured, span by span,
How I had mounted upward from the abyss;
By what a confused pathway come to this,
The end of earth; and saw the future's plan
Grow, 'minimize the universe to man,'
And build a daring, nobler edifice.
Ah, struggle to assume this new control
And seek thy higher reaches, O my soul!
Thou 'rt sure of this, thy feet are on the earth;
Forget it, it remains; but let thine eyes
Lead on thy heart, and find beyond the skies
At least the promise of an upward birth.