Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades
Forever and forever when I move (19-21)
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! (22-24)
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all western stars, until I die (59-60).