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

Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths.

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.

How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise.

The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.

Come, my friends Tis not too late to seek a newer world Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die