O Saint whose thousand shrines our feet have trod <br />And our eyes loved thy lamp's eternal beam, <br />Dim earthly radiance of the Unknown God, <br />Hope of the darkness, light of them that dream, <br />Far off, far off and faint, O glimmer on <br />Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone. <br /> <br />O Word whose meaning every sense hath sought, <br />Voice of the teeming field and grassy mound, <br />Deep-whispering fountain of the wells of thought, <br />Will of the wind and soul of all sweet sound, <br />Far off, far off and faint, O murmur on <br />Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone.<br /><br />Sir Henry Newbolt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-pulchritudo/
