Wherein do art and poesy delight,
And mysteries of science, hid in time,
Her wands of power and globes of knowledge-light
CXXXIX
For, more than men, lives Man, through death alive;
Slow moves the progress vast, still cry and strive
New hopes, new thoughts for utterance and for act,
And Use, and Strength, and Beauty yet survive.
CXL
Yea, beauty’s image graven on the mind