But pass, unknown, unloved, unlost, 

 The man who knew and weighed the cost, 

 The man who dared to dream. 

 "For what is Fame and what's a Name, 

 Your cries of sorrow, wrath, and shame, 

 Your Hamlets and King Lears, 

 The night must cover them again 

 Did they last a thousand lives of men, 

 A thousand thousand years. 

 "The world may say that I have missed; 

 Ah! no—I am an egoist 

 Of subtle, fixed design. 

 My dreams a garden are to me 

 To which no other holds the key, 

 I wish to keep them mine. 

 "All mine—those tender, half-thought things, 

 Which flutter gossamer rainbow wings 

 And hover near, near, near. 

 Why should I catch and pin them down 

 And lose their beauty for a crown 

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