With full life done, bowing before the law,
Binding young thinkers’ hearts with loyal awe,
And fealty fixed as the ever-enduring sun—
God let us live, seeking the highest light,
God help us die aright.
Nay, I would have you grand, and still forgotten,
Hid like the stars at noon, as he who set
The Egyptian magic of man’s alphabet;
Or that far Coptic, first to dream in pain
That dauntless souls cannot by death be slain—