Chapter VI

For hark! One sings, _The gods, the gods are dead!_
_Man triumphs!_ And hark--_Blind Space his funeral urn._
And hark, one whispers with reverted head
To the old dead gods--_Bring back our heaven, return!_
And hark, one moans--_The ancient order is fled,
We are children of blind chance and vacant dreams.
Heed not mine utterance--that was chance-born, too._
And hark, the answer of Science--_All they said,
Your fathers, in that old time, lit by gleams
Of what their hearts could feel,
The rolling years reveal
As fragments of one law, one covenant, simply true._