The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.