The sun set, but not his hope:
Stars rose; his faith was earlier up:
Fixed on the enormous galaxy,
Deeper and older seemed his eye;
And matched his sufferance sublime
The taciturnity of time.
He spoke, and words more soft than rain
Brought the Age of Gold again;
His action won such reverance sweet
As hid all measure of the feat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem