And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, moulding men.

Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.

Nor at all can tell Whether I mean this day to end myself, Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, That men like soldiers may not quit the post Allotted by the Gods.

Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!

An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.

Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.

I found Him in the shining of the stars.