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

There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life.

Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove.

Woman is the lesser man.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.