A.D. MDCCCXC

Heart all full of heavenward haste, too like the bubble bright
On wild little waters floating half of an April night,
Fled from the ear in music, fled from the eye in light,
Dear and stainless heart of a boy! No sweeter thing can be
Drawn to the quiet centre of God who is our sea:
Whither, through troubled valleys, we also follow thee.