Better not be at all than not be noble.

Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him; and tho' he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay.

Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.

For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and soon Spins, toiling out his own cocoon.

The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs the deep.

Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot; But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.

For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.