Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.

In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.

To love one maiden only, cleave to her, And worship her by years of noble deeds, Until they won her; for indeed I knew Of no more subtle master under heaven Than is the maiden passion for a maid, Not only to keep down the base in man, But teach high thought, and aimable words And courtliness, and the desire of fame, And love of truth, and all that makes man.

All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.

I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.

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.

the shell must break before the bird can fly.