All things by immortal power,
Near and Far
Hiddenly
To each other linked are,
That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star."

Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet.
And all the things are made young with young desires.

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare
And left the flushed print in a poppy there.

"The innocent moon, that nothing does but shine,
Moves all the labouring surges of the world."

Nothing begins and nothing ends
That is not paid with moan;
For we are born in others' pain.
And perish in our own.