And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.

The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom.

Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot.

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.

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