God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time.
Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold.
Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible.
My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning.
A short retirement urges a sweet return.