X — Of the Faith of the Fathers

Dim face of Beauty haunting all the world, Fair face of Beauty all too fair to see, Where the lost stars adown the heavens are hurled,— There, there alone for thee May white peace be.

Beauty, sad face of Beauty, Mystery, Wonder, What are these dreams to foolish babbling men Who cry with little noises ’neath the thunder Of Ages ground to sand, To a little sand.