Society and the World

Good-bye, proud world! I’m going home; Thou art not my friend and I’m not thine.

Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor’s creed has lent. All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone.

Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword.

To rise at six, to dine at ten, To sup at six, to sleep at ten, Makes a man live for ten times ten.

Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

Philosophy will clip an angel’s wings.

Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy?

Is made of love and friendship, and sits high Upon the forehead of humanity.

Of light is poesy; ’tis the supreme of power; ’Tis might half slumb’ring on its own right arm.

And other spirits there are standing apart Upon the forehead of the age to come; These, these will give the world another heart, And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings _____ ? Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb.

To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven.

To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven.

Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs.

Swiftly walk o’er the western wave, Spirit of Night!

Kings are like stars—they rise and set, they have The worship of the world, but no repose.

Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number— Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you— Ye are many—they are few.

Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number— Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you— Ye are many—they are few.

I met Murder on the way— He had a mask like Castlereagh. 3

I met Murder on the way— He had a mask like Castlereagh. 3

He tossed them human hearts to chew.

Hell is a city much like London— A populous and smoky city.

An old, mad, blind, despised and dying king. 2

Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine In one spirit meet and mingle.