Name and fame! to fly sublime Through the courts, the camps, the schools Is to be the ball of Time, Bandied in the hands of fools.

Manners are not idle, but the fruit of loyal and of noble mind.

The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind Hath fouled me.

And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

The thrall in person may be free in soul

Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot.