Philip James Bailey

Corruption springs from light: 'tis one same power
Creates, preserves, destroys; matter whereon
It works, on e'er read more

Corruption springs from light: 'tis one same power
Creates, preserves, destroys; matter whereon
It works, on e'er self-transmutative form,
Common to now the living, now the dead.

Ah, nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow.

Ah, nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow.

Wan night, the shadow goer, came stepping in.

Wan night, the shadow goer, came stepping in.

England! my country, great and free!
Heart of the world, I leap to thee!

England! my country, great and free!
Heart of the world, I leap to thee!

Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she
Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die.
The sun read more

Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she
Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die.
The sun insists on gladness; but at night,
When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep.