All you see is but a portal
Leading on to the Immortal;
Though it be so fair, so fair,
Enter, not to tarry there;
Idle tears, your torrent stay—
Beauty, it is consecrate
And can never fade away;
Change it will, be re-create,
Born from narrow things to great."
But the first voice pleaded again. Together they sang, and strangely enough they harmonized. Not that the celestial utterance lent itself to the lighter measure, but the nearer song took a softer cadence and borrowed a new persuasion from the greater. Passionate grew the pleading, more alluring the radiant retreat. The heart of Atmâ, ever open to the influence of the good, cried to the solemn voice above for help.