THE higher that our spirits climb,
The more does Truth appear a lie,
The more do things of Space and Time
Appear a rainbow in the sky--
A frail illusion of the sun
That fades and perishes when won--
Merely a rainbow, red and blue,
A thing the birds go flying through;
Yet on the rainbow's coloured arch
(Only perhaps six inches broad)
Armies of Hopes and Dreams can march
Up to the very Heart of God.
Be truth a lie,
Yet far and high,
In search of truth we still will fly;
For even on a rainbow rim
We have a shining path to Him,
So far behind, so high above.
Whose thoughts are truth, whose deeds are love.
Ronald Campbell Macfie, ed. War: an Ode And Other Poems. New York: E.P. Dutton and Company, 1920.