XV.
And yet the world, in all its varied girth,
Lacks what we look for. There is something base
In mere existence—something in the face
Of men and women which accepts the earth,
And all its havings, as its right of birth,
But not its quittance, not its resting-place.
XVI.
There have been moments, at the set of sun,
When I have long'd for wings upon the wind,