No answering oracle doth speak.
And in the children’s hour
We fain for peace would seek.
Far off like some grand snowy height
That gleams anon through driving mist,
Some great End flashes on our sight;
And on that peak the sun hath kissed,
Could we but stand, thence gazing back
Perchance Heaven’s echoes we might hear,
Perchance Heaven’s light upon our track