How powerful thou art! How strong to move
The hidden strings that guide us puppet mortals!
Pass-word of memory—of by-gone days—
Thou everlasting epitaph—is there
A land in which thou hast no dwelling-place?
Wherein may be nor pageantry nor pride,
Nor altars, save the pure one of the heart,
Nor tombs, except for sorrow; and no tears;
There is a world, Oh God, where human lips
May say Farewell! no more.