I'll Come To Thee By Moonlight, Though

This Outer World Is But The Pictured Scroll Of Worlds Within The Soul; A Colored Chart, A Blazoned Missal-book, Whereon Who Rightly Look May Spell The Splendors With Their Mortal Eyes, And Steer To Paradise.

The Story Of Scientific Discovery Has Its Own Epic Unity-a Unity Of Purpose And Endeavour-the Single Torch Passing From Hand To Hand Through The Centuries; And The Great Moments Of Science When, After Long Labour, The Pioneers Saw Their Accumulated Facts Falling Into A Significant Order-sometimes In The Form Of A Law That Revolutionised The Whole World Of Thought-have An Intense Human Interest, And Belong Essentially To The Creative Imagination Of Poetry.

We Have Come By Curious Ways To The Light That Holds The Days; We Have Sought In Haunts Of Fear For That All-enfolding Sphere: And Lo! It Was Not Far, But Near. We Have Found, O Foolish-fond, The Shore That Has No Shore Beyond. Deep In Every Heart It Lies With Its Untranscended Skies; For What Heaven Should Bend Above Hearts That Own The Heaven Of Love?

Heart Of My Heart, The World Is Young; Love Lies Hidden In Every Rose! Every Song That The Skylark Sung Once, We Thought, Must Come To A Close: Now We Know The Spirit Of Song, Song That Is Merged In The Chant Of The Whole, Hand In Hand As We Wander Along, What Should We Doubt Of The Years That Roll?

Oh, Grown-ups Cannot Understand, And Grown-ups Never Will, How Short The Way To Fairyland Across The Purple Hill.