It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.

Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.

That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.

I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

Her court was pure, her life serene; God gave her peace; her land reposed; A thousand claims to reverence closed.

The woods are hush'd, their music is no more; The leaf is dead, the yearning past away; New leaf, new life--the days of frost are o'er; New life, new love, to suit the newer day: New loves are sweet as those that went before: Free love--free field--we love but while we may.

Men may come and men may go but I go on forever.