A memory steals in from lost heavens of Truth, A wide release comes near, a Glory calls, A might looks out, an estranged felicity. In glamorous passages of half-veiled light Wandering, a brilliant shadow of itself, This quick uncertain leader of blind gods, This tender of small lamps, this minister serf Hired by a mind and body for earth-use Forgets its work mid crude realities; It recovers its renounced imperial right, It wears once more a purple robe of thought And knows itself the Ideal's seer and king, Communicant and prophet of the Unborn, Heir to delight and immortality. All things are real that here are only dreams, In our unknown depths sleeps their reserve of truth, On our unreached heights they reign and come to us In thought and muse trailing their robes of light.