Be fair, nor something fairer far?

That awful hope, so deep, that swells

At the keen clash of Easter bells

Is it a waning moon, that dies

As morn-like lights of science rise?

By all that yearns in art and song,

By the vague dreams that make men strong,

By memory’s penance, by the glow

Of lifted mood poetic,—No!

No! by the stately forms that stand