To endless life away;
The inner fire, unwasting,
Transfigures our dull clay
See the stars melting, sinking,
In life wine, golden bright
We, of the splendour drinking,
Shall grow to stars of light.

Lost, lost are all our losses;
Love set for ever free;
The full life heaves and tosses
Like an eternal sea!
One endless living story!
One poem spread abroad!
And the sun of all our glory
Is the countenance of God.



CHAPTER XIII: THE MARQUIS OF LOSSIE


The next morning rose as lovely as if the mantle of the departing
Resurrection day had fallen upon it. Malcolm rose with it, hastened
to his boat, and pulled out into the bay for an hour or two's
fishing. Nearly opposite the great conglomerate rock at the western
end of the dune, called the Bored Craig (Perforated Crag) because
of a large hole that went right through it, he began to draw in his
line. Glancing shoreward as he leaned over the gunwale, he spied
at the foot .of the rock, near the opening, a figure in white,