I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees.

Science grows and Beauty dwindles.

Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.

There's no glory like those who save their country.

Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot; But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.

We needs must love the highest when we see it.

For now the poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.