Futurity

And, O beloved voices, upon which

Ours passionately call, because erelong

Ye brake off in the middle of that song

We sang together softly, to enrich

The poor world with the sense of love, and witch

The heart out of things evil,—I am strong,—

Knowing ye are not lost for aye among

The hills, with last year's thrush. God keeps a niche

In Heaven to hold our idols! and albeit

He brake them to our faces, and denied

That our close kisses should impair their white,—

I know we shall behold them raised, complete,—

The dust shook from their beauty,—glorified

New Memnons singing in the great God-light.