From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.