“Let me go: take back thy gift:Why should a man desire in any wayTo vary from the kindly race of men,Or pass beyond the goal of ordinanceWhere all should pause, as is most meet for all?...Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears,And make me tremble lest a saying learnt,In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true?‘The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.’- Tithonus”

“But thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills,And beat me down and marr’d and wasted me,And tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’dTo dwell in presence of immortal youth,Immortal age beside immortal youth,And all I was, in ashes. - Tithonus”

“Thine are these orbs of light and shade;Thou madest Life in man and brute;Thou madest Death; and lo, thy footIs on the skull which thou hast made.”

“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.”

“So I find every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber, and the street,For all is dark where thou art not”

“Tell thou the King and all his liars, that IHave founded my Round Table in the North,And whatsoever his own knights have swornMy knights have sworn the counter to it -- and sayMy tower is full of harlots, like his court,But mine are worthier, seeing thy professTo be none other than themselves -- and sayMy knights are all adulterers like his own,But mine are truer, seeing they professTo be none other; and say his hour is come,The heathen are upon him, his long lanceBroken, and his Excalibur a straw.”

“Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams of: Wherefore, let thy voice,Rise like a fountain for me night and day.”