Nor at all can tell Whether I mean this day to end myself, Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, That men like soldiers may not quit the post Allotted by the Gods.

And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears!

There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.

O Blackbird! sing me something well: While all the neighbors shoot thee round, I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground, Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell.

For love reflects the thing beloved.

The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.

A beam in darkness: let it grow.