A day may sink or save a realm.

Let observation with extended observation observe extensively.

And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?

Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.

Nor at all can tell Whether I mean this day to end myself, Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, That men like soldiers may not quit the post Allotted by the Gods.

No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.

I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro' darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.