What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
The Eagle, he was lord above
The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.