The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!

That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it.

And gain is gain, however small.

All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.

I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!