Blind and naked ignorance delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, on all things all day long
Once in a golden hour, I cast to earth a seed, And up there grew a flower, That others called a weed.
Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
A beam in darkness: let it grow.
That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.