Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.

The mirror crack'd from side to side "The curse has come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott

Once in a golden hour, I cast to earth a seed, And up there grew a flower, That others called a weed.

If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?

The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.

Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.

I know transplanted human worth will bloom to profit otherwhere.