And there came to Sym as he walked afield
   Deep thoughts of the world and the folk of Gosh. 
He saw the idols to which they kneeled;
   He marked them cringe to the name of Splosli. 
Is it meet,” he asked, “that a soul should crawl
   To a purple robe or a gilded chair?”
But his father walked to the garden’s wall
   And stooped to a rose-bush flowering there.

Said he:  “Whenever a bursting bloom
Looks up to the sun, may a soul find room
  For a measure of awe at the wondrous birth
  Of one more treasure to this glad earth.” 
Said he:  “Whenever a dewdrop clings
To a gossamer thread, and glitters and swings,
  Deep in humility bow your head
  To a thing for a blundering rnortal’s dread.”

And there came to Sym in his later youth,
  With the first clear glance in the face of guile,
Thirst for knowledge and thoughts of truth,
  Of gilded baubles, and things worth while. 
And he said, “There is much that a Glug should know;
  But his mind is clouded, his years are few.” 
Then joi, the father, he answered low
  As his thoughts ran back to the youth he knew.

Said he:  “Whenever the West wind stirs,
And birds in feathers and beasts in furs
  Steal out to dance in the glade, lie still: 
  Let your heart teach you what it will.” 
Said he:  “Whenever the moonlight creeps
Thro’ inlaced boughs, a’nd a shy star peeps
  Adown from its crib in the cradling sky,
  Know of their folly who fear to die.”

New interest came to the mind of Sym,
  As ’midst his fellows he lived and toiled. 
But the ways of the Glug folk puzzled him;
  For some won honour, while some were foiled;
Yet all were filled with a vague unrest
  As they climbed their trees in an endless search. 
But joi, the father, he mocked their quest,
  When he marked a Glug on his hard-won perch.

Said he:  “Whenever these tales are heard
Of the Feasible Dog or the Guffer Bird,
  Then laugh and laugh till the fat tears roll
  To the roots of the joy-bush deep in your soul. 
When you see them squat on the tree-tops high,
Scanning for ever that heedless sky,
  Lie flat on your back on the good, green earth
  And roar till the great vault echoes your mirth.”

As he walked in the city, to Sym there came
  Sounds envenomed with fear and hate,
Shouts of anger and words of shame,
  As Glug blamed Glug for his woeful state. 
“This blame?” said Sym, “Is it mortal’s right
  To blame his fellow for aught he be?”
But the father said, “Do we blame the night
  When darkness gathers and none can see?”

Said he:  “Whenever there springs from earth
A plant all crooked and marred at birth,
   Shall we, unlearned in the Gardener’s scheme,
   Blame plant or earth for the faults that seem?”
Said he:  “Whenever your wondering eyes
Look out on the glory of earth and skies,
   Shall you, ’mid the blessing of fields a-bloom,
   Fling blame at the blind man, prisoned in gloom?”