The ocean is a mighty harmonist.

And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.

Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.

But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.

That blessed mood in which the burthen of the mystery, in which the heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible world is lightened.