Their aid alone can crown thy work aright;
Teach thee that song whereof all worlds were made;
Rend the last veil, and feed thine eyes with light.
Naught shall deceive thee, then.
All creatures of the sea and earth and air,
The circling stars, the warring tribes of men
Shall make one harmony, and thy soul shall hear.
Out of this prison of clay
With lifted face, a mask of struggling fire,
With arms of flesh and bone stretched up to pray,