How Fit He Is To

Twas Beyond A Mortal's Share To Wander Solitary There: Two Paradises 'twere In One To Live In Paradise Alone.

My Vegetable Love Should Grow Vaster Than Empires, And More Slow.

And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity.

Music, The Mosaic Of The Air.

Let Us Roll All Our Strength, And All Our Sweetness, Up Into One Ball: And Tear Our Pleasures With Rough Strife, Through The Iron Gates Of Life. Thus, Though We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run.