Locke sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side.

How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

What can be explained is not poetry.

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

In dreams begin responsibilitiy.