Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there

In small bright specks upon the visible side

Of our strange being’s parti-coloured web.

How rich the universe! ’Tis a vein of ore

Emerging now and then on Earth’s rude breast,

But flowing full below. Like islands set

At distant intervals on Ocean’s face,

We see it on our course; but in the depths

The mystic colonnade unbroken keeps

Its faithful way, invisible but sure.

Oh, if it be so, wherefore do we men

Pass by so many marks, so little heeding?