Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud. - Alfred Tennyson

So many minds did gird their orbs with beams, Tho' one did fling the fire; Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams Of high desire.

Love may come, and love may go,
And fly, like a bird, from tree to tree:
But I will love no more, no more,
Till Ellen Adair come back to me.
Bitterly wept I over the stone:
Bitterly weeping I turn'd away;
There lies the body of Ellen Adair!
And there the heart of Edward Gray!

=Lost Hope= You cast to ground the hope which once was mine, But did the while your harsh decree deplore, Embalming with sweet tears the vacant shrine, My heart, where Hope had been and was no more. So on an oaken sprout A goodly acorn grew; But winds from heaven shook the acorn out, And filled the cup with dew.