O Wild West Wind, Thou Breath Of

Cold Hopes Swarm Like Worms Within Our Living Clay.

The Everlasting Universe Of Things Flows Through The Mind, And Rolls Its Rapid Waves, Now Dark--now Glittering--now Reflecting Gloom-- Now Lending Splendour, Where From Secret Springs The Source Of Human Thought Its Tribute Brings.

I Fall Upon The Thorns Of Life.

I Silently Laugh At My Own Cenotaph, And Out Of The Caverns Of Rain, Like A Child From The Womb, Like A Ghost From The Tomb, I Arise And Unbuild It Again.

I Have Been A Wanderer Among Distant Fields. I Have Sailed Down Mighty Rivers.