My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
And mighty poets in their misery dead.