Is nothing left? Have all things passed thee by?
The stars are not thy stars! The aged hills
Are changed and bowed beneath repeated ills
Of ice and snow, of river and of sky.
The sea that raiseth now in agony
Is not thy sea. The stormy voice that fills
This gloom with man’s remotest sorrow shrills
The memory of the futurity!
We – promise of the ages! – Lift thine eyes,
And gazing on these tendrils intertwined
For Aeons in the shadows, recognize
In Hope and Joy, in heaven-seeking Mind,
In Faith, in Love, in Reason’s potent spell
The visitants that bid a world farewell!