If only it were possible to walk upon the wave,
To take from samite enclad hand the burning holy glaive.
If only it were possible to meet the present need,
To have the faith the saints once had in their undying creed.
If only it were possible that wisdom came with time,
And that the mistakes of the past did not our hands begrime.
If only it were possible that truth could set us free,
From all the fears of eyes that peer round every darkling tree.
If only it were possible that hope was born anew,
And every day was glorious and every night-time too.
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