Now there is only left what time has made

Our very own. in our and time’s despite,

And we ourselves have nothing, but are stayed

By lonely joys and griefs and blank delight.

For this that’s ours so surely could not be

But by the word of terror or of grace

That spoke, when all was lost, the guarantee:

“Impersonally soul and soul embrace,

And incorruptibly are bodies bound.”

The hours that melt like snowflakes one by one

Leave us this residue, this virgin ground

For ever fresh, this firmament and this sun.

Then let us lay unasking hand in hand,

And take Sur way, thus led, into our land.