The great world's altar stairs That slope through darkness up to God.

I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping stones Or their dead selves to higher things.

The shell must break before the bird can fly.

And so the Word had breath, and wrought/ With human hands the creed of creeds/ In loveliness of perfect deeds,/ More strong than all poetic thought.

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?