And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.

Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?

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.

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?

I hold that a man should strive to the uttermost for his life's set prize.

Ignorance is not innocence but sin.

When a man's busy, why leisure Strikes him as wonderful pleasure: 'Faith, and at leisure once is he? Straightway he wants to be busy.