Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun, br We'll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread br Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead br Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run br Down some close-covered by-way of the air, br Some low sweet alley between wind and wind, br Stoop under faint gleams, thread the shadows, find br Some whispering ghost-forgotten nook, and there br br Spend in pure converse our eternal day; br Think each in each, immediately wise; br Learn all we lacked before; hear, know, and say br What this tumultuous body now denies; br And feel, who have laid our groping hands away; br And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.