Make strong old dreams lest this our world lose heart
For man is a skin full of wine
But his soul is a hole full of God
And the song of all time blows through him
As winds through a knot-holed board.
Though man be a skin full of wine
Yet his heart is a little child
That croucheth low beneath the wind
When the God-storm battereth wild.
- Ezra Pound (1885-1972)
from A Lume Spento (1908)
