These Fragments I Have Shored

Men Have Left God Not For Other Gods, They Say, But For No God; And This Has Never Happened Before.

The Dove Descending Breaks The Air With Flame Of Incandescent Terror Of Which The Tongues Declare The One Discharge From Sin And Error. The Only Hope, Or Else Despair Lies In The Choice Of Pyre Or Pyre- To Be Redeemed From Fire By Fire. Who Then Devised The Torment? Love. Love Is The Unfamiliar Name Behind The Hands That Wove The Intolerable Shirt Of Flame Which Human Power Cannot Remove. We Only Live, Only Suspire Consumed By Either Fire Or Fire.

And Through The Spaces Of The Dark Midnight Shakes The Memory As A Madman Shakes A Dead Geranium.

For Last Year's Words Belong To Last Year's Language And Next Year's Words Await Another Voice.

We Shall Not Cease From Exploring, And The End Of Our Exploring Will Be To Arrive Where We Started And Know The Place For The First Time.