When all the stars are sown 
 Across the night-blue space, 
 With the immense unknown, 
 In silence face to face. 
 We stand in speechless awe 
 While Beauty marches by, 
 And wonder at the Law 
 Which wears such majesty. 
 How small a thing is man 
 In all that world-sown vast, 
 That he should hope or plan 
 Or dream his dream could last! 

 O doubter of the light, 
 Confused by fear and wrong, 
 Lean on the heart of night 
 And let love make thee strong! 

 The Good that is the True 
 Is clothed with Beauty still. 
 Lo, in their tent of blue, 
 The stars above the hill!