A moment's thought would have shown him. But a moment is a long time, and thought is a painful process.

The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

The rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.

They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man's.

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;The wind it plies the saplings double, And thick on Severn snow the leaves.