Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/172

 And bid the world's wave back—what song should be Theirs that with praise would bring and sing you home?

With all our hearts we praise you whom ye hate, High souls that hate us; for our hopes are higher, And higher than yours the goal of our desire, Though high your ends be as your hearts are great. Your world of Gods and kings, of shrine and state, Was of the night when hope and fear stood nigher, Wherein men walked by light of stars and fire Till man by day stood equal with his fate. Honour not hate we give you, love not fear, Last prophets of past kind, who fill the dome Of great dead Gods with wrath and wail, nor hear Time's word and man's: 'Go honoured hence, go home, Night's childless children; here your hour is done; Pass with the stars, and leave us with the sun.'