The earth is rocking, the skies are riven-- Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion, Is breaking the crystal urns of heaven.
Tho' the world could turn from you, This, at least, I learn from you: Beauty and Truth, tho' never found, are worthy to be sought, The singer, upward-springing, Is grander than his singing, And tranquil self-sufficing joy illumes the dark of thought. This, at least, you teach me, In a revelation: That gods still snatch, as worthy death, the soul in its aspiration.
I wander forth this chill December dawn: John Frost and all his elves are out, I see, As busy as the elfin world can be, Clothing a world asleep with fleecy lawn.
All that is beautiful shall abide, All that is base shall die.
Beauty and Truth, tho' never found, are worthy to be sought.
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