A man in armour is his armour's slave.
Oh the wild joys of living! The leaping from rock to rock ... the cool silver shock of the plunge in a pool's living waters.
We find great things are made of little things, And little things go lessening till at last Comes God behind them.
Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.
Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before Love, - Only sleep.
Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star!