A DARK MONTH.
341
XXII.
No glory that ever was shed
From the crowning star of the seven
That crown the north world's head,
No word that ever was spoken
Of human or godlike tongue,
Gave ever such godlike token
Since human harps were strung.
No sign that ever was given
To faithful or faithless eyes
Showed ever beyond clouds riven
So clear a Paradise.
Earth's creeds may be seventy times seven
And blood have denied each creed:
If of such be the kingdom of heaven,
It must be heaven indeed
