And rose, with aching eye and troubled brain,
Thinking how oft my fellow workers here
Have suffered in the flesh for labours wrought
In love to all mankind; and how the world
Cares nought for words which teach not of itself;
For to the world, itself is all in all,
And nought outside it can the world conceive
As real and true. And yet this earth must cease
To be for ever to each mortal, when
The Spirit casts off earth, and, in new life