We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,The path of its departure still is free.Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;Nought may endure but Mutability!

Our sweetest songs are those of saddest thought.

Siamo noi che,perduti in tempestose visioni,conduciamo una vana lotta contro gli spettri,e in una folle trance con il coltello dello spiritocolpiamo, invulnerabili, nulla.

Death is the veil which those who live call life; They sleep, and it is lifted.

The One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments.

All love is sweet Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.

Familiar acts are beautiful through love.

Love's very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.

I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.