All experience is an arch wherethro’ gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.
It becomes no man to nurse despair, but, in the teeth of clenched antagonisms, to follow up the worthiest till he die.
Speak to Him thou for He hears, and spirit with spirit can meet Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
To sleep I give my powers away; My will is bondsman to the dark.
Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die.
In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some divine despair.
But over all things brooding slept The quiet sense of something lost.
That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more, Too common!
He never sold the truth to serve the hour, Nor paltered with Eternal God for power.