The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'

If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong;--be worthy of the grace of God.

But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant

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.

"One impulse from a vernal wood

But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.

Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.