XLIII
How like a door the knowledge we attain,
Which door is on the bourne of the Inane;
It opens and our nothingness is closed,—
It closes and in darkness we remain.
XLIV
Hither we come unknowing, hence we go;
Unknowing we are messaged to and fro;
And yet we think we know all things of earth
And sky—the suns and stars we think we know.
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