Wise from our loss and rich with all our spoil,
A race redeeming its lost heritage,
Not by vain fears checked, nor by vain hopes cheated.
—If that heaven fade, and futureless we toil,
And battle already defeated?
‘Words of beauty, words of assuaging
Majesty saw we on high above time’s raging
Inscribed as over some vast porch serene;
Pardon: the heart flowed out on tides of peace.
Justice: the soiled soul hasted to be clean.