The Westminster Gazette, XXXIII (2 June 1909), p. 2. 

The Quest 

I sought among the trampling herds of men 
  That choke the cities of the cast and west.
The proudest mansion and the foulest den
  I entered, seeking wisdom yet unguessed. 
I searched them through unpausing, without rest,
  Until the bricks and plaster of each wall 
Became transparent at my thought's behest, 
  But still I could not hear the Master's call. 

I wandered on the moorland and the fen,
  I climbed the mountain to its silent crest,
I watched the robin redbreast and the wren 
  Choose out the leaves wherewith to build a nest.
I looked upon the plain by dawn caressed, 
  I saw its contours gaunt beneath night's pall.
All nature told her tale at my behest, 
  But still I could not hear the Master's call. 

I thought to keep all knowledge in a pen,
  All human hardship was to me a test, 
There seemed naught undiscovered to my ken,
But that I sought I found nowhere expressed. 
  I left my learning for a maiden's breast, 
I scorned my wisdom to become her thrall,
Blasphemed my task at her unspoke behest, 
  But still I could not hear the Master's call. 

She spurned the love which all my soul possessed,
  She threw it down and jested at its fall. 
I laughed and turned to recommence my quest,
  And in the laugh I heard the Master's call. 

R. T. CHANDLER.