One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
A power is passing from the earth.
Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.