O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and god fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.

That which we are, we are.