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

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew.

In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold

My purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the Western stars until I die.

That which we are, we are, and if we are ever to be any better, now is the time to begin.

I have led her home, my love, my only friend. There is none like her, none, And never yet so warmly ran my blood, And sweetly, on and on Calming itself to the long-wished for end, Full to the banks, close on the prom- ised good.

I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel; But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt as man should feel. For when I look upon that face, That cold, unheeding, frigid brown, Where neither rage nor fear has place, By Heaven! I cannot hate thee now!