The airs of heaven blow o'er me;
A glory shines before me
Of what mankind shall be,—
Pure, generous, brave, and free;
A dream of man and woman
Diviner but still human,
Solving the riddle old,
Shaping the Age of Gold!

Ring, bells in unreared steeples,
The joy of unborn peoples!
Sound, trumpets far off blown,
Your triumph is my own!
I feel the earth move sunward,
I join the great march onward,
Fore-reach the good to be,
And share the victory.