No, when the fight begins within himself, A man's worth something.
Oh, the little more, and how much it is! And the little less, and what worlds away.
Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain of finite hearts that yearn.
So free we seem, so fettered fast we are.
The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven what were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
Why comes temptation but for man to meet and master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?
God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.
Ignorance is not innocence but sin.
It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.
Like plants in mines, which never saw the sun, But dream of him, and guess where he may be, And do the best to climb, and get to him.
Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity; These are its sign and note and character.
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?
Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.
Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's; God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
Autumn wins you best by this, its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.
I walked a mile with Pleasure,
She chattered all the way;
But left me none the wiser,
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me!