Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.

Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.

A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!

Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.

Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.