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Beyond his belly-need,

What is is Thine of fair design

In thought and craft and deed;

Each stroke aright of toil and fight,

That was and that shall be,

And hope too high, wherefore we die,

Has birth and worth in Thee.

Who holds by Thee hath Heaven in fee

To gild his dross thereby,

And knowledge sure that he endure

A child until he die—

For to make plain that man’s disdain

Is but new Beauty’s birth—

For to possess in loneliness

The joy of all the earth.

As thou didst teach all lovers speech

And Life all mystery,

So shalt Thou rule by every school

Till love and longing die,

Who wast or yet the Lights were set

A whisper in the Void,

Who shalt be sung through planets young

When this is clean destroyed.

Beyond the bounds our staring rounds,

Across the pressing dark,

The children wise of outer skies

Look hitherward and mark

A light that shifts, a glare that drifts

Rekindling thus and thus,

Not all forlorn, for Thou hast borne

Strange tales to them of us.

Time hath no tide but must abide

The servant of Thy will;