All Life needs for life is possible to will.

She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room

But thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills, And beat me down and marr’d and wasted me, And tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’d To dwell in presence of immortal youth, Immortal age beside immortal youth, And all I was, in ashes. - Tithonus

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

Here at the quiet limit of the world.

I hold it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.

Trust me not at all, or all in all.