Live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world.

Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.

As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.

Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.

The noonday quiet holds the hill.

But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.

All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.