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God willed, who never needed speech,                     "Let all things be:"              And, lo, the starry firmament                     And land and sea              And his first thought of life that lives                     In you and me.              His circle of eternity                     We see in part;              Our spirits are his breath, our hearts                     Beat from his heart;              Hence we have played as little gods                     And called it art.              Lacking his power, we shared his dream                     Of perfect things;              Between the tents of hope and sweet                     Rememberings              Have sat in ashes, but our souls                     Went forth on wings.              Where life fell short of some desire                     In you and me,              Feeling for beauty which our eyes                     Could never see,              Behold, from out the void we willed                     That it should be,              And sometimes dreamed our lisping songs                     Of humanhood              Might voice his silent harmony                     Of waste and wood,              And he, beholding his and ours,                     Might find it good.