I Am Now Quite Cured Of Seeking

You Must Forgive Me, For I Struggled Only For You.

If All Else Perished, And He Remained, I Should Still Continue To Be; And If All Else Remained, And He Were Annihilated, The Universe Would Turn To A Mighty Stranger.

I Cannot Express It: But Surely You And Everybody Have A Notion That There Is, Or Should Be, An Existence Of Yours Beyond You.

No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler In The World's Storm-troubled Sphere.

A Heaven So Clear, An Earth So Calm, So Sweet, So Soft, So Hushed An Air; And, Deepening Still The Dreamlike Charm, Wild Moor-sheep Feeding Everywhere.