Light and night, whose clouds and glories change and mingle and divide, Veil the truth whereof they witness, show the truth of things they hide. Through the darkness and the splendour of the centuries, loud or dumb, Shines and wanes and shines the spirit, lit with love of life to come.
Man, the soul made flesh, that knows not death from life, and fain would know, Sees the face of time change colour as its tides recoil and flow. All his hope and fear and faith and doubt, if aught at all they be, Live the life of clouds and sunbeams, born of heaven or earth or sea.
All are buoyed and blown and brightened by their hour's evasive breath: All subside and quail and darken when their hour is done to death. Yet, ere faith, a wandering water, froze and curdled into creeds, Earth, elate as heaven, adored the light that quickens dreams to deeds.
All the storms of time, and wrath of many winds, may carve no trace On the viewless altar, though the veil bear many a name and face: Many a live God's likeness woven, many a scripture dark with awe, Bids the veil seem verier iron than the word of life's own law.
Till the might of change hath rent it with a rushing wind in twain, Stone or steel it seems, whereon the wrath of chance is wreaked in vain: Stone or steel, and all behind it or beyond its lifted sign Cloud and vapour, no subsistence of a change-unstricken shrine.
God by god flits past in thunder, till his glories turn to shades: God to god bears wondering witness how his gospel flames and fades. More was each of these, while yet they were, than man their servant seemed: Dead are all of these, and man survives who made them while he dreamed.
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