Recitative:
 Still tho' the scene of possible summer recedes,
 and the guns can be heard across the hills
 like waves at night:
 though crawling suburbs fill
 their valleys with the stench of idleness like rotting weeds,
 and desire unacted breeds its pestilence.

Tenor solo:
 Yet still below the soot the roots are sure
 and beyond the guns there is another murmur
 like pigeons flying unnotice'd over continents
 with secret messages of peace: and at the centre
 of wheeling conflict the heart is calmer
 the promise nearer than ever it came before.

Chorus:
 Europe lies in the dark.
 City and flood and tree;
 thousands have work'd and work
 to master necessity.
 To build the city where
 the will of love is done
 and brought to its full flower
 the dignity of man.
 Pardon them their mistakes,
 the impatient and wavering will.
 They suffer for our sakes,
 honour, honour them all.
 Honour, honour them all.
 Dry their imperfect dust,
 the wind blows it back and forth,
 they die to make man just
 and worthy of the earth.