When I reflect how little I have done,1
And add to that how little I have seen,2
Then furthermore how little I have won3
Of joy, or good, how little known, or been :4
I long for other life more full, more keen,5
And yearn to change with such as well have run.6
Yet reason mocks me—nay, the soul, I ween,7
Granted her choice would dare to change with none.8
No,—not to feel, as Blondel when his lay9
Pierced the. strong tower, and Richard answered it10
No, not to do, as Eustace on the day11
He left fair Calais to her weeping fit12
No, not to be, Columbus, waked from sleep13
When his new world rose from the charmèd deep.14