“In the dim and weary witness of time
A New heaven! God’s infliction on power’s neighborhood
pouring out gratitude, for truth has eyes to see
through the soul’s distracting lethargy;
nothing repels it, neither sin nor woe:
A busy temple’s occupation, an old instrument
dropped at the feet of justice —
deep being that endures
from justice that disappears.
Say again and again
that you love the truth, like a cuckoo-song
marvelling you to a new awakening.
Remember never to the hills of law
without her strains.
Shop talk and discussion and the common bliss
that drills a new vocabulary of faith
in our speech acts.”