Be patient. Our Playwright may show In some fifth act what this wild Drama means. - Alfred Tennyson

"Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they." — Lord Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H.

Sooner or later I too may passively take the print
Of the golden age — why not? I have neither hope nor trust;
May make my heart as a millstone, set my face as a flint,
Cheat and be cheated, and die: who knows? we are ashes and dust.

Let darkness keep her raven gloss:
Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss