|All of the self dwell ignorant, whether by Light touched or purblind. |
Tell us, who can, is this Wineshop, or Mosque?
Secret our priests have hidden—the shrine is herself the moth that
Round, round the shrine’s lamp flutters. Credulity Spins webs
to make men think their religiousness Pure, unmixed with heathen delusion:
Magic, and myth are the tales alike of
Brahmin and Mullah! Grant to this country, oh
God, such a guide as hides under beggar’s rags
Prophet’s high thoughts! How long shall Woolar’s
Rarest of pearls from the world lie buried?