“All day within the dreamy house,The doors upon their hinges creaked;The blue fly sang in the pane; the mouseBehind the mouldering wainscot shrieked,Or from the crevice peered about.Old faces glimmered through the doors,Old footsteps trod the upper floors,Old voices called her from without. . . .”

“I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro' darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.”

“We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;“Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson”

“Dark house, by which once more I standHere in the long unlovely street,Doors, where my heart was used to beatSo quickly, waiting for a hand,A hand that can be clasp'd no more -Behold me, for I cannot sleep,And like a guilty thing I creepAt earliest morning to the door.He is not here; but far awayThe noise of life begins again,And ghastly thro' the drizzling rainOn the bald street breaks the blank day.”

“The mirror crack'd from side to side"The curse has come upon me," criedThe Lady of Shalott”

“The old order changeth yielding place to new And God fulfills himself in many ways Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me I have lived my life and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou If thou shouldst never see my face again Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”

“She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.”