How should we say outside this shines no light
Of lovelier scenes unseen ; of lives which spread
Pleasant and unexpected for the Dead,
As our World, opening to the Babe's wide eyes

Because too rich with hope ? Why quite deny
The Heavenly story, lest our doubtful hearts

New from the Womb, and full of birth's surprise ?
How should this prove the All, the Last, the First ?
Why shall no inner, under, splendors burst
Once— twice — the Veil ? Why put a marvel by

Which mark the stars, and take them for bright parts
Of boundless Being, ships of life that sail
In glittering argosies — without a tale.
Without a term — aye, of that shoreless Sea