A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
We murder to dissect.
Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.