Broken Lights/Recompense

For works with similar titles, see Recompense.

RECOMPENSE

Let the gross world go by
As it will;
And let the sad hours die—
We have still
In spite of winged time
And despair
That which makes all things sublime,
All things fair.

Where music is, where lights
Ever burn,
Where perfumes of sweet nights
Turn on turn
Flood the earth, 'tis there the soul
Wakes and sings
Like a skylark with no goal
But swift wings.

Art is a steady light,
A sweet song,
A flower of delight
Borne along
By white hands in the dark
Toward that sea
Where all men shall embark
And be free.