My loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain When Time and God give judgment.

For words divide and rend But silence is most noble till the end.

The tadpole poet will never grow into anything bigger than a frog; not though in that stage of development he should puff and blow himself till he bursts with windy adulation at the heels of the laureled ox.

Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.

From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.

The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.

In the world of dreams, I have chosen my part.