That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.

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.

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

Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.

Tis held that sorrow makes us wise.

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.

He makes no friend who never made a foe.