Who doubts but Eve had a rose in her hair
Ere fig leaves fettered her limbs?
So Life wore poetry's perfect rose
Before 'twas clothed with economic prose.
Homer before Pherecydes,
Caedmon before Alfred.
Every rule is a sign of weakness. A man needs no rules to make him eat,
when he is hungry: and a law is a badge of disgrace. Yet we are able to
console ourselves, from points of view which terminate in duty, order,
and the like advantages.
How did'st thou win her, Death?
Thou art the only rival that ever made her cold to me.
Thou hast turned her cold to me.
_I went into the Church to find my Lord.
They said He is here, He lives here.
But I could not see Him,
For the creed-tablets and bonnet-flowers._