Xxi

Thou hast vast life in thee, howe’er uncouth, And, unenlightened, dost possess the art To feel the fairway home without the chart, And erring still, inclinest still to truth. The sense of justice and the sense of ruth Are not yet dead within thee, and thy part It is to be magnanimous. Thy heart Bounds to the fulness of perpetual youth. And while the shadows deepen into gloam, And while the long years whiten on thy head, Thy freshness fails not. Thou bring’st nightly home The sense that thou hast earned a dreamless bed. The solemn Abbey, and the whispering Dome Open to-day to take thy Immortal Dead.

HESEPE, 22nd July