Treasure the shadow. Somewhere, firmly based,
Arise those turrets that in cloud-land shine;
Somewhere, to thirsty toilers of the waste,
Yon phantom well-spring is a living sign.
Treasure the shadow. Somewhere, past thy sight,
Past all men's sight, waits the true heaven at last:
Tell them whose fear would put thy hope to flight,
There are no shadows save from substance cast.
