John Dryden

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he.

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he.

Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And read more

Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
That, spider like, we feel the tenderest touch.

According to her cloth she cut her coat.

According to her cloth she cut her coat.

The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream.

The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream.

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He, who can call to-day his own:
He who, secure read more

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He, who can call to-day his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have liv'd today.