And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.

And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.

Fair and foul are near of kin And fair needs foul," I cried. "My friends are gone, but that's a truth Nor grave nor bed denied."

Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Ah, let us kiss each other's eyes,/And laugh our love away.

Literature is always personal, always one man's vision of the world, one man's experience, and it can only be popular when men are ready to welcome the visions of others.

Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.