We live by admiration, hope and love.

Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.

Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!

Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.

Far from the world I walk, and from all care.