Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand the downward slope to death.

All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.

Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.

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

Trust me not at all, or all in all.

I do but sing because I must; and pipe but as the linnets sing.

And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?