There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.

He that shuts love out, in turn shall be Shut out from love, and on her threshold lie, Howling in outer darkness.

The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.

Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.

The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind Hath fouled me.

Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.

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