Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.

Name and fame! to fly sublime Through the courts, the camps, the schools Is to be the ball of Time, Bandied in the hands of fools.

And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.

I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.

It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.

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

The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.