Sometimes, sometimes the highway opens up Among the present passes as we go, Though distances preside and our small faith May not outlast the hour for all we know. Sometimes, sometimes the edge of sunlight holds Like Zeno’s arrow in its chiseled flight, And neither will give place nor falling fade The while each clear moment is in sight. Sometimes, sometimes the fabled hits of yore Resound as if the universe were domed, And risen angels re-enchant the air In range of every hill where we have homed.

Though doubt detains us and the changing sky Distils like aether in a crystal cup For stars to grace without a drop of grief, Sometimes, sometimes the highway opens up.