Too long, that some may rest, tired millions toil unblest.

Threadbare his songs seem now, to lettered ken: They were worn threadbare next the hearts of men.

His friends he loved. His direst earthly foe - Cats-I believe he did but feign to hate. My hand will miss the insinuated nose, Mine eyes the tail that wagged contempt at Fate.

A dreamer of the common dreams, A fisher in familiar streams, He chased the transitory gleams That all pursue; But on his lips the eternal themes Again were new.

Empires dissolve and peoples disappear, song passes not away.

Hate and mistrust are the children of blindness.

Deemest thou laborOnly is earnest?Grave is all beauty,Solemn is joy.