Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.

Meek Walton's heavenly memory.

Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.

If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.

And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy because We have been glad of yore.

But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.