The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.

The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!

Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.

A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.

On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.

No motion has she now, no force; she neither hears nor sees; rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.