Of dawn and God the Father breaking through.     

       Brave offspring of a disenchanted age     

       He lived as though illusion were not dead;     

       His was the pain of faiths discredited     

       Which with new knowledge civil battles wage.     

  

       In all his deeds for righteous quests he stood     

       And we, who watched his face and heard his voice,     

       Dreamed of the Christ; we had not any choice,     

       In loving him we knew that God was good—     

  

       We knew. And thus, beneath the hooded sky,     

       Lightly we followed where his pain had made     

       A path for us; if one should fall, he stayed     

       To raise him, lest his frailer hope should die.     

  

       Ofttimes when summer's day had ceased to shine     

       And on our London roofs the moon looked down,     

       We two would wander through the gas-lit town     

       Speaking in whispers of the things divine;     

 Prev. P 36/142 next