Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
For books are as meats and viands are; some of good, some of evil sub-stance.
Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
That power Which erring men call Chance.
And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse