pilgrimages quotes

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the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth,
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
May they stumble, stage by stage
On an endless pilgrimage,
Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head.
We could not help being struck by the seeming, though innocent, indifference of Nature to these men's necessities, while elsewhere ...
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