And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, moulding men.

And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

So I find every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber, and the street, For all is dark where thou art not

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!

The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.

Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land; Ring in the Christ that is to be.