To Hear The World Applaud The Hollow

Religion--that Voice Of The Deepest Human Experience.

Weary Of Myself, And Sick Of Asking What I Am, And What I Ought To Be, At This Vessel's Prow I Stand, Which Bears Me Forwards, Forwards, O'er The Starlit Sea.

Too Quick Despairer, Wherefore Wilt Thou Go? Soon Will The High Midsummer Pomps Come On, Soon Will The Musk Carnations Break And Swell.

Ah Love, Let Us Be True To One Another, Which Seems To Lie Before Us Like A Land Of Dreams; So Various, So Beautiful, So New, Hath Really Neither Joy Nor Love Nor Life.

The Sea Of Faith Was Once, Too, At The Full, And Round Earth's Shore Lay Like The Folds Of A Bright Girdle Furled. But Now I Only Hear Its Melancholy, Long, Withdrawing Roar, Retreating, To The Breath Of The Night-wind, Down The Vast Edges Drear And Naked Shingles Of The World.