In this modern age of the philosophy of relativity, I suppose I cannot claim for myself the quality of absolute poet-dom. It is evident that the poet in me changes its features and spontaneously assumes the character of the preacher with the change of its position. I have evolved in me a certain philosophy of life, which has in it a strong emotional element; and therefore it can sing as well as speak. It is like a cloud that can break out in a shower of rain, or merely tinge itself in colours and offer decorations to the festival of the sky. For this reason, I give rise to expectations, which are almost of a contrary character—I am asked to give gladness, and I am asked to give help.
To give gladness requires inspiration; to give help requires organisation—the one depends principally upon myself, and the other upon means and materials that are outside me. Here come in difficulties, which make me pause. Poesy creates its own solitude for the poet. The consequent detachment of mind, which is necessary for creative life, is lost or broken when the poet has to choose a constructive programme. The work of construction requires continuous employment of attention and energy—it cannot afford to grant leave to the poet to retire and come to himself.
This creates conflict within my nature and very often makes me think that the guidance of the Good is not always for the Best. And yet, its call being natural to me, I cannot ignore it altogether. But what constantly hurts me is the fact, that in a work of organisation I have to deal with and make use of men, who have more faith in the material part than in the creative ideal.
My work is not for the success of the work itself, but for the realisation of the ideal. But those, in whose minds the reality of the ideal is not clear, and love for the ideal is not strong, try to find their compensation in the success of the work itself; and they are ready for all kinds of compromise.
I know that the idea which I have in mind requires the elimination of all passions that have their place in the narrow range of life; but most people believe that these passions are the steam power, which gives velocity to our motives. They quote precedents: they say that pure idea has never achieved any result. But when you say that the result is not greater than the idea itself, then they laugh at you!
During the last fourteen months of my campaign for an International University, I have said to myself over and over again: “Never let your pride be hurt at any prospect of failure; for failure can never affect truth. Strenuously keep all your attention on being true.” My weakness creeps in where I love. When those whom I love feel exultant at the expectation of success, it urges me to procure this toy for them. *