I too remember distant golden days

When even my soul was young; I see the sand

Whirl in a blinding pillar towards the band

Of orange sky-line ’neath a turquoise blaze—

(Some burnt-out sky spread o’er a glistening land)

— And slim brown jargoning men in blue and gold,

I know it all so well, I understand

The ecstasy of worship ages-old.

Hear the first truth: The great far-seeing soul

⁠Is ever in the humblest husk; I see

How each succeeding section takes its toll

⁠In fading cycles of old memory.

And each new life the next life shall control

⁠Until perfection reach Eternity.