Among The Blind The One-eyed Blinkard Reigns

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

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.

And Now, When I Have Summed Up All My Store, Thinking (so I Myself Deceive) So Rich A Chaplet Thence To Weave As Never Yet The King Of Glory Wore, Alas! I Find The Serpent Old, That, Twining In His Speckled Breast, About The Flowers Disguised Does Fold With Wreaths Of Fame And Interest.

As Lines, So Loves Oblique, May Well Themselves In Every Angle Greet; But Ours, So Truly Parallel, Though Infinite, Can Never Meet.

But At My Back I Always Hear Time's Winged Chariot Hurrying Near.