A shadow leaned over me, whispering, in the darkness, Thoughts without sound; Sorrowful thoughts that filled me with helpless wonder And held me boun… - Alfred Noyes

Beauty is a fading flower, Truth is but a wizard's tower, Where a solemn death-bell tolls, And a forest round it rolls.

High in the old oak pulpit This Lord of all misrule— I think it was Will Summers That once was Shakespeare's fool — Held up his hand for silence, And all the church grew still: "And are you snoring yet," he said, "Or have you slept your fill?

A thousand creeds and battle-cries, A thousand warring social schemes, A thousand new moralities,
And twenty thousand thousand dreams! Each on his own anarchic way, From the old order breaking free, — Our ruined world desires, you say, License, once more, not Liberty.