Echoing back more faint and faintlier
The tread of living. Home,
Home flies the spirit. Faint and faintlier
The surging waves of passion break to foam
Then like a clash of cymbals suddenly
She, slave of Time,
O’ercomes all tokens of Eternity,
Nay, rather with Eternity is made one,
One with recurrent rhyme
Of arch, with flash of window, with the sun