Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.

There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.

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

The dream Dreamed by a happy man, when the dark East, Unseen, is brightening to his bridal morn.

O last regret, regret can die!

Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

Gorgonised me from head to foot With a stony British stare.