And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.

The old order changes yielding place to new.

We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may Yea, even when we know not, mix our spites And private hates with our defence of Heaven.

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear The warble was low, and full and clear.

Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death.

Do we indeed desire the dead Should still be near us at our side ? Is there no baseness we would hide ? No inner vileness that we dread ? How many a father have I seen A sober man, among his boys Whose youth was full of foolish noise.