For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and soon Spins, toiling out his own cocoon.

Wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower.

Better not to be at all Than not to be noble.

Cricket, however, has more in it than mere efficiency. There is something called the spirit of cricket, which cannot be defined.

All experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.

O Blackbird! sing me something well: While all the neighbors shoot thee round, I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground, Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell.

There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.