I love this world and all these men because

I shall not love them long. That we do die

I believe not, bound fast to higher laws,

But that we lose this world do not deny.

This light that in the sea makes many a light,

This breeze so soft when least we feel it most,

May be replaced by a diviner sight

Or by a truer breeze; but these are lost.

Like some strange trick of childhood that was ill

Yet had the childhood, in it I regret

Perchance in some far world sublime and stiIl,

The childhood that I never shall forget —

No, nor these toys of sense —this world, these men —,

Dear now when had because dear when lost then.