Above the infinite watery plain,
To foam and sparkle in the sun
A moment ere it sink again.
The eternal undulation runs:
A man, I die; perchance to be,
Next life, a white-throat on the wind,
A daffodil on Tempe’s lea.
They lied who said that Pan was dead:
Life was, life is, and life shall be.
So take away your crucifix—