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

Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.

All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.

Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.

Name and fame! to fly sublime Through the courts, the camps, the schools Is to be the ball of Time, Bandied in the hands of fools.

Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

Faith lives in honest doubt.