Dobbin At Manger Pulls His Hay: Gone

And Some Win Peace Who Spend The Skill Of Words To Sweeten Despair Of Finding Consolation Where Life Has But One Dark End.

Dobbin At Manger Pulls His Hay: Gone Is Another Summer's Day.

Slowly, Silently, Now The Moon Walks The Night In Her Silver Shoon.

His Are The Quiet Steeps Of Dreamland, The Waters Of No-more-pain; His Ram's Bell Rings 'neath An Arch Of Stars, "rest, Rest, And Rest Again.

Without Imagination Of The One Kind Or Of The Other, Mortal Existence Is Indeed A Dreary And Prosaic Business... Illumined By The Imagination, Our Life, Whatever Its Defeats - Is A Never-ending Unforeseen Strangeness And Adventure And Mystery.