And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.

Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.

Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.