So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.
Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.
There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good, Or propagate again her loathèd kind, Thronging the cells of the diseased mind, Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood, Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?