⁠Even as life with death, and fame with time, and
⁠memory with the tomb
Where a dead man hath for vassals Fame the serf and
⁠Time the slave.

Far from earth as heaven, the steadfast light withdrawn,
⁠superb, suspense,
⁠Burns in dumb divine expansion of illimitable flower:
Moonrise whets the shadow's edges keen as noontide:
⁠hence and thence
⁠Glows the presence from us passing, shines and passes
⁠not the power.
Souls arise whose word remembered is as spirit within
⁠the sense:
⁠All the hours are theirs of all the seasons: death has
⁠but his hour.