This ancient universe
New youth must now rehearse,
Its trembling blade of grass
Huge mountains should surpass.

The handful of poor clay
That did a glance display
All-viewing, in the brain
Must shape a cry of pain.

Our aged moon and sun
The course have never run;
Fresh stars we must pursue
To build the world anew.

Each image of delight
That dawns upon my sight
Is fair; yet fairer still
The image that I will.

God said, "The world so lies,
And say not otherwise";
Said Adam, "So I see;
But thus it ought to be!"