“Thought, stumbling, plods Past fallen temples, vanished gods, Altars unincensed, fanes undecked, Eternal systems flown or wrecked; Through trackless centuries that grant To the poor trudge refreshment scant, Age after age, pants on to find A melting mirage of the mind.” MindAgePastPoorCenturyEternalFallenTemplesGrantsPantsAltarsMeltingStumblingMiragesRefreshments Book:At the Gate of the Convent: And Other Poems Source: At the Gate of the Convent: And Other Poems