All precious things, discover'd late, To those that seek them issue forth, For love in sequel works with fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth.

And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.

O last regret, regret can die!

And every dew-drop paints a bow.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver, little breezes dusk and shiver, thro' the wave that runs forever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls and four gray towers, overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers, the Lady of Shalott.

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens? If all the world were falcons, what of that? The wonder of the eagle were the less, But he not less the eagle.

What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.