The poem
PURE at heart we wander now: Comrade on the quest divine, Turn not from the stars your brow That your eyes may rest on mine.
Pure at heart we wander now: We have hopes beyond to-day; And our quest does not allow Rest or dreams along the way.
We are, in our distant hope, One with all the great and wise: Comrade, do not turn or grope For some lesser light that dies.
We must rise or we must fall: Love can know no middle way: If the great life do not call, Then is sadness and decay.