  Men sadly say that Love’s high dream is vain, That one force holds the heart—the hope of gain. Are, then, the August Powers behind the veil Weary of watch and powerless to prevail? Have they grown palsied with the creep of age, And do they burn no more with pallid rage? Are the shrines empty and the altars cold, Where once the saints and heroes knelt of old? Not so: the vast in-brothering of man— The glory of the universe—began When first the heart of the Mother Darkness heard The Whisper, and the ancient chaos stirred. Ever the feet of Christ were in events, Bridging the seas, shaking the continents. His feet are heard in the historic march Under the whirlwind, under the starry arch. From darkness unto darkness, dawn to dawn, Resolved to lay the rafter and the beam Of Justice—the imperishable Dream. This is the voice of Time against the Hours; This is the witness of the Cosmic Powers; This is the Music of the Ages—this The song whose first note broke the First Abyss. All that we glory in was once a dream; The World-Will marches onward, gleam by gleam. New voices speak, dead paths begin to stir: Man is emerging from the sepulchre! Let no man dare, let no man ever dare To mark on Time’s great way, “No Thoroughfare!”
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