Art Indeed Is Long, But Life Is

And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity.

Music, The Mosaic Of The Air.

My Mind Was Once The True Survey Of All These Meadows Fresh And Gay; And In The Greenness Of The Grass Did See Its Hopes As In A Glass.

Meanwhile The Mind, From Pleasure Less, Withdraws Into Its Happiness; The Mind, That Ocean Where Each Kind Does Straight Its Own Resemblance Find; Yet It Creates, Transcending These, Far Other Worlds, And Other Seas; Annihilating All That's Made To A Green Thought In A Green Glade ... Such Was That Happy Garden-state.

How Vainly Men Themselves Amaze, / To Win The Palm, The Oak, Or Bays; / And Their Incessant Labours See / Crowned From Some Single Herb Or Tree.