Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.

The wind sounds like a silver wire, And from beyond the noon a fire Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher The skies stoop down in their desire; And, isled in sudden seas of light, My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight, Bursts into blossom in his sight.

Can calm despair and wild unrest Be tenants of a single breast, Or sorrow such a changeling be?

Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts; Or all the same as if he had not been?

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.

All Life needs for life is possible to will.

It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.