Amazing Stories/Volume 01/Number 09/Ascension

Age by age the sun is rising
Toward the apex of its way;
Seeking heights where Verga sparkles,
Many trillion miles away.
So the soul of man is climbing;
Wistful ever, mortals wind
Farther from the brute and caveman,
Dawn and morning of the mind.
Into dust fall kings and idols,
Superstition, ancient gear,
For the strength of thought is stronger
Than the curb of hope or fear.
Man is breaking vain traditions,
Old injustice, legal wron;
Giving outworn good for better,
While he thinks and toils along,
Quelling plagues, controlling nature—
Losing zest for martial fame—
Winning on this little planet
Glory for the human name.
Smiling upward, sweeping onward,
Through the night and through the day,
Mounts the soul of man still higher
Toward the apex of its way.