The poem
Beneath the shadow of dawn's aërial cope, With eyes enkindled as the sun's own sphere, Hope from the front of youth in godlike cheer Looks Godward, past the shades where blind men grope Round the dark door that prayers nor dreams can ope, And makes for joy the very darkness dear That gives her wide wings play; nor dreams that fear At noon may rise and pierce the heart of hope. Then, when the soul leaves off to dream and yearn, May truth first purge her eyesight to discern What, once being known, leaves time no power to appall; Till yoiuth at last, ere yet youth be not, learn The kind wise word that falls from years that fall-- "Hope thou not much, and fear thou not at all."