Demos I

All you that are enamored of my name

       &nbsp And least intent on what most I require,

       &nbsp Beware; for my design and your desire,

Deplorably, are not as yet the same.

Beware, I say, the failure and the shame

       &nbsp Of losing that for which you now aspire

       &nbsp So blindly, and of hazarding entire

The gift that I was bringing when I came.



Give as I will, I cannot give you sight

       &nbsp Whereby to see that with you there are some

       &nbsp To lead you, and be led. But they are dumb

Before the wrangling and the shrill delight

       &nbsp Of your deliverance that has not come,

And shall not, if I fail you — as I might.