The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.
Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,Lets in new light through chinks that time has made.Stronger by weakness, wiser men become,As they draw near to their eternal home.