But on the soundless and the viewless river
⁠That bears through night perchance again to day
The dead whom death and twin-born fame deliver
⁠From life that dies, and time's inveterate sway,

No shadow save of falsehood and of fear
⁠That brands the future with the past, and bids
The spirit wither and the soul grow sere,
⁠Hovers or hangs to cloud life's opening lids,

If life have eyes to lift again and see,
⁠Beyond the bounds of sensual sight or breath,
What life incognisable of ours may be
⁠That turns our light to darkness deep as death.

Priests and the soulless serfs of priests may swarm
⁠With vulturous acclamation, loud in lies,
About his dust while yet his dust is warm
⁠Who mocked as sunlight mocks their base blind eyes,