Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O, for the touch of a vanish’d hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

And o’er the hills and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, Beyond the night, across the day, Through all the world she followed him.

My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.

Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.

Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change.

I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.

Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions, match’d with mine, Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.

And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapp’d in universal law.