Joys that joys estrange, and griefs that griefs estrange not,
⁠Day that yearns for night, and night that yearns for day,
As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they change not,
⁠Seeing that change may never change or pass away.

Life of death makes question, 'What art thou that changest?
⁠What am I, that fear should trust or faith should doubt?
I that lighten, thou that darkenest and estrangest,
⁠Is it night or day that girds us round about?
Light and darkness on the ways wherein thou rangest
⁠Seem as one, and beams as clouds they put to rout.
Strange is hope, but fear of all things born were strangest,
⁠Seeing that none may strive with change to cast it out.