Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/130

 "This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.

"Think you this mould of hopes and fears Could find no statelier than his peers In yonder hundred million spheres?"

It spake, moreover, in my mind: "Tho' thou wert scatter'd to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind."

Then did my response clearer fall: "No compound of this earthly ball Is like another, all in all."

To which he answer'd scoffingly; "Good soul! suppose I grant it thee, Who'll weep for thy deficiency?