What see we here? Forms, nothing more! Forms fill the brightest, strongest eye, We know not substance; ’mid the shades shadows ourselves we live and die.

“Faith mountains move” I hear: I see the practice of the world unheed The foolish vaunt, the blatant boast that serves our vanity to feed.

“Faith stands unmoved”; and why? Because man’s silly fancies still remain, And will remain till wiser man the day-dreams of his youth disdain.

“’Tis blessèd to believe”; you say: The saying may be true enow And it can add to Life a light:—only remains to show us how.

E’en if I could I nould believe your tales and fables stale and trite, Irksome as twice-sung tune that tires the dullèd ear of drowsy wight.