Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / His mind moves upon silence.

Farewell - farewell, For I am weary of the weight of time.

The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.

The intellect of man is forced to choose Perfection of the life, or of the work And if it take the second must refuse A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.

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.

But was there ever dog that praised his fleas?

Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.