Mastering the lawless science of our law,- that codeless myriad of precedent, that wilderness of single instances.
Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
All Life needs for life is possible to will.
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
In the long years liker they must grow; The man be more of woman, she of man.
An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.