Has He not sung for joy, has He not smiled?”
So they grew old together, and the years
Pressed no more to their lips the cup of tears
(They had drained all, maybe). And ever less
Seemed all things mortal, as in quietness
They pondered the eternal mysteries
(The noblest heritage of all men born),
[pg 20] Such as are writ upon the face of dawn,
Or in the glamour of a moonlit night,
Or in the autumn swallow’s southern flight,