Of promise flaming in its colours seven,—
Sign that we are in harmony with heaven.
That gleam your quiet duties shall make bright—
Svanhild.
And speed the poet in his upward flight!
Falk.
The poet, yes; for poets all men are
Who see, thro’ all their labours, mean or great,
In pulpit or in schoolroom, church or state,
The Ideal’s lone beacon-splendour flame afar.