The only enemy of innocence and beauty is time.

I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember

How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics?

The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song After great cathedral gong.

Time drops in decay Like a candle burnt out. And the mountains and woods Have their day, have their day; But, kindly old rout Of the fire-born moods, You pass not away.

By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.

The falcon cannot hear the falconer