Of thee, Duration, would I crave a boon;

Pour out thyself into this blessedness,

And let my guide and let that other soul

Now dwell therein with me in peacefulness.

The Guardian:

Now let the lightnings vanish into naught

Whose sharp flash brings to view necessities

When souls awake and feel the Cosmic North.

Let thunder also lose its roar, which rolls

In warning at the cosmic midnight hour.