Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.

But the churchmen fain would kill their church, As the churches have kill'd their Christ.

Live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world.

And men, whose reason long was blind, From cells of madness unconfined, Oft lose whole years of darker mind.

It was my duty to have loved the highest; It surely was my profit had I known: It would have been my pleasure had I seen. We needs must love the highest when we see it, Not Lancelot, nor another.

Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.

That which we are, we are, and if we are ever to be any better, now is the time to begin.