We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times.
We are all a part of every person we have ever met.
Tho' much is taken, much abides.
And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
As the husband is the wife is; thou art mated with a clown, As the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.
This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty; such as lurks In some wild poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.