From Chaucer to Tennyson / With Twenty-Nine Portraits and Selections from Thirty Authors - Henry A. Beers

Into a narrow act,

Fancies that broke through language and escaped;

All I could never be,

All men ignored in me,

This I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped.

O, to be in England

Now that April's there,

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,