"Monarch of light and laughter, honor, and trust, and truth,

God of all inspiration, King of eternal youth,

Whose words are fitted to music as jewels are set in gold,

There is need of thy splendid worship in a world grown grim and old!

We have drunk the wine of the ages, we are come to the dregs and lees,

And the shrines are all unworthy where we bend reluctant knees;

The brand of the beast is on us, we grovel, and grope, and err,

Wake, Great god of the Morning, the moment has come to stir!

The stars of our night of evil on a wan horizon wane:--

Hear us, Phoebus Apollo, and come to thine own again!"

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