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

She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

Nature, red in tooth and claw.

Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.

Either sex alone is half itself.

Her court was pure, her life serene; God gave her peace; her land reposed; A thousand claims to reverence closed.