CHORUS OF SPIRITS
  Our spoil is won,
  Our task is done,
  We are free to dive, or soar, or run;
  Beyond and around,
  Or within the bound
  Which clips the world with darkness round.

  We 'll pass the eyes
  Of the starry skies
  Into the hoar deep to colonize;
  Death, Chaos and Night,
  From the sound of our flight,
  Shall flee, like mist from a tempest's might.

  And Earth, Air and Light,
  And the Spirit of Might,
  Which drives round the stars in their fiery flight;
  And Love, Thought and Breath,
  The powers that quell Death,
  Wherever we soar shall assemble beneath.