spirit, whether on top or at the bottom, using the most cruel and contemptible methods to drag the idealist down; to revile and persecute him - aye, even to kill him -for the unpardonable sin of proclaiming the ideal. They cannot forgive Chantecler for worshiping the sun:
Chantecler
Blaze forth in glory! . . .
0 thou that driest the tears of the meanest among weeds
And dost of a dead flower make a living butterfly
Thy miracle, wherever almond-trees
Shower down the wind their scented shreds,
Dead petals dancing in a living swarm
I worship thee, 0 Sun! whose ample light,
Blessing every forehead, ripening every fruit,
Entering every flower and every hovel,
Pours itself forth and yet is never less,
Still spending and unspent-like mother's love!
I sing of thee, and will be thy high priest,
Who disdainest not to glass thy shining face
In the humble basin of blue suds,
Or see the lightning of thy last farewell
Reflected in an humble cottage pane!
Glory to thee in the vineyards! I Glory to thee in the fields!
Glory among the grass and on the roofs,
In eyes of lizards and on wings of swans,
Artist who making splendid the great things
