Now as at all times I can see in the mind's 
     eye,
 In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale 
     unsatisfied ones
 Appear and disappear in the blue depths of
     the sky
 With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten
     stones,
 And all their helms of silver hovering side
     by side,
 And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find
     once more, 
 Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,
 The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial
    floor.