Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.

I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel; But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt as man should feel. For when I look upon that face, That cold, unheeding, frigid brown, Where neither rage nor fear has place, By Heaven! I cannot hate thee now!

A day may sink or save a realm.

That which we are, we are.