What rights are those that dare not resist for them?

Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; ... 'So careful of the type', but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go' ... Man, her last work, who seemed so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who rolled the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law- Tho' Nature red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

Faith is believing what we cannot prove.

And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears!

Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.