And now, probably at school, or in the first months of his college-life,
a new phase of experience begins. He has wandered over the border of
what is commonly called science, and the marvel of facts multitudinous,
strung upon the golden threads of law, has laid hold upon him. His
intellect is seized and possessed by a new spirit. For a time knowledge
is pride; the mere consciousness of knowing is the reward of its labour;
the ever recurring, ever passing contact of mind with a new fact is a
joy full of excitement, and promises an endless delight. But ever the
thing that is known sinks into insignificance, save as a step of the
endless stair on which he is climbing--whither he knows not; the unknown
draws him; the new fact touches his mind, flames up in the contact, and
drops dark, a mere fact, on the heap below. Even the grandeur of law as
law, so far from adding fresh consciousness to his life, causes it no
small suffering and loss. For at the entrance of Science, nobly and
gracefully as she bears herself, young Poetry shrinks back startled,
dismayed. Poetry is true as Science, and Science is holy as Poetry; but
young Poetry is timid and Science is fearless, and bears with her a
colder atmosphere than the other has yet learned to brave.
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