My God, how long! how long I’ve come
through these prosaic hills
with winding dusty roads and in
this ghastly light of ills.
But then at last while trudging on
I hear a fairy horn
resounding like the dimmest dawn
and hope springs up reborn.
In that new sound I lift my head
to look over the blight
above the dullness of the haze
I glimpse a pointed height.
From Zion sounds the distant bell
of elves and Jesus Christ;
desire quickens discipline,
I’ve been again enticed.