Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): "Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'"
The only fault's with time; All men become good creatures: but so slow!
I have lived, And seen God's hand thro a life time, And all was for the best.
In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.
And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.