The old order changeth yielding place to new And God fulfills himself in many ways Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me I have lived my life and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou If thou shouldst never see my face again Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.

The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.

Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts; Or all the same as if he had not been?

She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.

Silence, beautiful voice.

The noonday quiet holds the hill.