Permanent, past the reach of Time and Change, Yet fair and fresh as any flower wild blown; As delicate, as fair As any highest tiny cloudlet sown Faint in the upper air. Fragile yet strong, a music that vision seemed. Though all the land was fair, let the eye range Whither it will On plain or hill, It must return where white the tower gleamed Wonderful, irresistible, bubble-bright In the morning light. And then I knew, I knew why men must choose Rather the dangerous path of arms than let Beauty be broken That is God’s token, The sign of Him; why hearts of courage forget Aught but the need supreme To follow honour and the perilous thing: Scorning Death’s sting; Knowing Man’s faith not founded on a dream. _Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._