Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver.
I do but sing because I must; and pipe but as the linnets sing.
Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.
Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.
And what delights can equal those That stir the spirit's inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?