"But say, at that feast hath the poor man place?
Is reverence there for the old head hoar?
For the cripple that never might join the race?
For the maimed that fought, and can fight no more?"

"Reverence is there for the poor and meek;
And the great King kisses the worn, pale cheek;
And the King's Son waits on the pilgrim guest;
And the Queen takes the little blind child to her breast:
There with a crown is the just man crowned;
But the false and the vengeful are branded and bound
In knots of serpents, and flung without pity
From the bastions and walls of the saintly City."

Then the eyes of the Maidens grew dark, as though
That judgment of God had before them passed:
And the two sweet faces grew dim with woe;
But the rose and the radiance returned at last.

"Are gardens there? Are there streams like ours?
Is God white-headed, or youthful and strong?
Hang there the rainbows o'er happy bowers?
Are there sun and moon and the thrush's song?"

"They have gardens there without noise or strife,
And there is the Tree of immortal Life:
Four rivers circle that blissful bound;
And Spirits float o'er it, and Spirits go round:
There, set in the midst, is the golden throne;