Eternal alchemist, upraise, enthrone
True heirs in true succession, later blown
From that same seed of fire which never died.
Nor love shall lack her solace, to behold
Ranged to the morrow’s melancholy verge,
Thy lights uprisen in Thought’s disclosing spaces;
And round some beacon-spirit, stable, old,
In radiant broad tumultuary surge
For ever, the young voices, the young faces.