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.

Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.

I know transplanted human worth will bloom to profit otherwhere.

Never, oh! never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.

Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life.

Sin is too stupid to see beyond itself.