III

No voice from some sublimer world hath ever

To sage or poet these responses given—

Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven,

Remain the records of their vain endeavour,

Frail spells—whose uttered charm might not avail to sever,

From all we hear and all we see,

Doubt, chance, and mutability.

Thy light alone—like mist o'er mountains driven,

Or music by the night-wind sent

Through strings of some still instrument,

Or moonlight on a midnight stream,

Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream.