Out of the lives of heroes and their deeds, Out of the miracle of human thought, Out of the songs of singers, God proceeds; And of the soul of them his Soul is wrought. There follows a quick clatter of disputation, broken by the entrance of the philosopher; and the pilgrim's question being put to him, he replies-- God? God! There is no GOD. Thus 'the spirit that denies' abruptly shatters the poetic vision; and the artistic effect is, correspondingly, to break the music of the previous stanzas with a sudden discord. The design of the work required that the philosopher should be heard, and dramatic fitness suggested that his most effective entrance would be here, rending the fair new synthesis with denial. And the resulting dissonance is inherent in the very scheme of the poem. That defect does not appear in "The Last Abbot," which is also engaged upon the thought of the universal soul. Here an old monk, knowing that he is drawing near the end of life, quietly talks to the brethren of his order about life and death and after-death. There is no argument, no discussion even. No other voice is raised to interrupt the meditative flow of the old man's message, which is, in fact, a recantation. And, as a consequence, the poem has a unity of serene reflectiveness, rising at times to lyrical ecstasy. He is thinking of his approaching death-- Oh, I, with light and airy change, Across the azure sky shall range, When I am dead. ..... I shall be one Of all the misty, fresh and healing powers. Dew I shall be, and fragrance of the morn, And quietly shall lie dreaming all the noon, Or oft shall sparkle underneath the moon, A million times shall die and be reborn, Because the sun again and yet again Shall snatch me softly from the earth away: I shall be rain; I shall be spray; At night shall oft among the misty shades Pass dreamily across the open lea; And I shall live in the loud cascades, Pouring their waters into the sea. ... Nought can die: All belongs to the living Soul, Makes, and partakes, and is the whole, All--and therefore, I.