"Through long, long years, to seek, to strive, to yearn for human love,—and never quench that thirst; to pour the soul out winning no return—O'er fragile idols, by delusions nursed,—On things that fail us, reed by reed, to lean, to mourn the changed, the far-away, the dead, to send our troubled spirits through the unseenIntensely questioning for treasures fled."