That blessed mood,In which the burden of the mystery,In which the heavy and the weary weightOf all this unintelligible world,Is lightened.

I agree about Shaw - he is haunted by the mystery he flouts. He is an atheist who trembles in the haunted corridor.

Forgive me, Spirit of my spirit, for this, that I have found it easier to read the mystery told in tears and understood Thee better in sorrow than in joy.

Farewell -- farewell,For I am weary of the weight of time.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

The cattle are grazing,Their heads never raising;There are forty feeding like one!