Introit : Vi. The Great Poem by Thomas MacDonagh

This way in power the great went by.
Hark to the echoes throbbing still!
Hark to the voices chanting high
Deeds for a while that shall not die!

Splendid they shone in purple and gold.
See where we caught the perfect gleam,--
Wrought it in tapestry of old.
The purple fades but the gold is gold.

The great, they bore a soul in each,
A link-shell in the chain of souls,
Theirs were the jewels of Life's beach,
From gem to gem an age doth reach.

Heaven-lent, for Heaven they held their dream,
Though their vesture, e'en purple, marked it not:
The earthlings one in fortune seem,
But are forgone -- no gold, no gleam!

This way the great shall ever pace,-_
Be our great the great till the end of it;
Fall not our gold from its burnished place;
Be our voice not dumb to another race.

This way -- or so then, not this way,
Perhaps not thus the great will go;
Perhaps our Heaven they will gainsay;
Our jewels perhaps -- so not this way.