Not with vain tears,when we're beyond the sun
We'll beat on the substantial door,nor teaed
Those dusty highroads of the aimless dead
Plaintive for earth,but rather turn and run
Down some close-covered by-air on the wall
Some low sweet alley between wind and wind
Stoop under faint gleam thread the shadows
Some whispering ghost-forgotten nook,and there
Spend in pure converse our eternal day
Think each end each maturely wise
learn all we lacked before,hear,know,and say
What this tumultuous body now denies
And feel, who have groping our hands away
And see,no loner blinded our eyes.