Ages past the soul existed, / Here an age 'tis resting merely.

God is seen God In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and the clod

And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again.

Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.

What I aspired to be! And was not, comforts me

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?