Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.

I wind about, and in and out, - With here a blossom sailing, - And here and there a lusty trout, - And here and there a grayling.

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.

Old age hath yet his honour and his toil.

And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.

Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.