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

Consume my heart away, sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is, and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.

Bid imagination run / Much on the Great Questioner; / What He can question, what if questioned I / Can with a fitting confidence reply.

And the merry love the fiddle, and the merry love to dance.

What the world's million lips are searching for, must be substantial somewhere.

When such as I cast out remorse; So great a sweetness flows into the breast; We must laugh and we must sing, We are blest by everything, Everything we look upon is blessed.

Hammer your thoughts into unity.