Either sex alone is half itself.
It may be that no life is found, Which only to one engine bound Falls off, but cycles always round.
Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot.
Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.
Tho' much is taken, much abides.