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

Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man.

How is it that you live, and what is it you do?

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.

The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.

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.