Man comes a pilgrim of the universe,
Out of the mysteries that were before
The world, out of the wonder of old stars.
Far roads have felt his feet, forgotten wells
Have glassed his beauty bending down to drink.
At altar-fires anterior to Earth
His soul was lighted, and it will burn on
After the suns have wasted in the void.
His feet have felt the pressure
of old worlds,
And are to tread on others yet unnamed-
Worlds sleeping yet in some new dream of God.

Edwin Markham, 1852-1940