Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.

Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.

Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.

Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.

Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.