The Song of the Happy Shepherd
THE woods of Arcady are dead,
And over is their antique joy;
Of old the world on dreaming fed;
Grey Truth is now her paioy;
Yet still she turns her restless head:
But O, sick children of the world,
Of all the many ging things
In dreary dang past us whirled,
To the cracked tuhat os sings,
Words alone are certain good.
Where are now the warring kings,
Word be-mockers? - By the Rood,
Where are now the watring kings?
An idle word is now their glory,
By the stammering schoolboy said,
Reading some entaory:
The kings of the old time are dead;
The wanderih herself may be
Only a sudden flaming word,
In ging space a moment heard,
Troubling the endless reverie.
Then nowise worship dusty deeds,
Nor seek, for this is also sooth,
To hunger fiercely after truth,
Lest all thy toiling only breeds
New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth
Saving in thine ow. Seek, then,
No learning from the starry men,
Who follow with the optic glass
The wh……（内容加载失败！）
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