Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
Shall love be blamed for want of faith?
Oh good gray head which all men knew!
The words 'far, far away' had always a strange charm.
And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.
And every dew-drop paints a bow.