But, under all, my heart believes the day <br />Was not diviner over Athens, nor <br />The West wind sweeter thro' the Cyclades <br />Than here and now; and from the altar of To-day <br />The eloquent, quick tongues of flame uprise <br />As fervid, if not unfaltering as of old, <br />And life atones with speed and plenitude <br />For coarser texture. Our poor present will, <br />Far in the brooding future, make a past <br />Full of the morning's music still, and starred <br />With great tears shining on the eyelids' eaves <br />Of our immortal faces yearning t'wards the sun.<br /><br />Sydney Wheeler Jephcott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-fragment-3/
