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But it will not be longEre this be thrown aside,And with new joy and prideThe little Actor cons another part,Filling from time to time his "humourous stage"With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,That Life brings with her in her Equipage;As if his whole vocationWere endless imitation.
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belieThy Soul's immensity;Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keepThy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!On whom those truths do rest,Which we are toiling all our lives to find,Thou, over whom thy Immortality
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