There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.
The last great Englishman is low.
Rain, rain, and sun! A rainbow in the sky!
It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight
Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.