a smileor frown

the masks are worn but still remain as true

as in the early day but when we move

beyond the instant second then the groove

has changed and there's no power to renew

what was ill-made by any human view

the which we have no right to disapprove

rather to wait as others would remove

our final hope with the bright morning dew

behind each mask no ordinary face

but visage bearing some immortal sign

come down to us from the ancestral race

as sign and symbol of a truth divine

for who we are and for the paths we tread

the times are clear and the meanings dread