Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May.
Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land; Ring in the Christ that is to be.
The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.
A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.
The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.
I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.