Since human harps were strung.

No sign that ever was given

To faithful or faithless eyes

Showed ever beyond clouds riven

So clear a Paradise.

Earth's creeds may be seventy times seven

And blood have defiled each creed:

If of such be the kingdom of heaven,

It must be heaven indeed.

355 XXIII

355

The wind on the downs is bright

As though from the sea:

And morning and night

Take comfort again with me.

He is nearer to-day,

Each night to each morning saith,

Whose return shall revive dead May

With the balm of his breath.

The sunset says to the moon,

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