Than Pharaoh’s pride exalted, or the wit 
Of magian shepherds built 
Who sought his land and spilt 
Blood of ten million slaves to conquer it. 
Clad in sparse robes of white 
The mountain beckons Night 
Her tracery of azure with the cold moon-rays to 
knit. 
 
Armoured with secret might 
I stand on earth upright, 
Strong in the power of Him who welded earth, 
Barred in the sky with steel, 
And breathed upon the wheel 
Of this vast scheme of stars, and made Him mirth 
In the poor dreams of us 
Who strive mysterious 
To pierce the bands of sense, and break the girth 
Of our own minds’ desire, 
Till He relume the fire 
Lost at our fall, not kindled fresh till that diviner 
birth. 
 
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