I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel For words, like nature, half reveal And half conceal the soul within. But, for the unquiet heart and brain A use measured language lie's The sad mechanic exercise Like dull narcotic's, numbing pain In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er Like coarsest clothes against the cold But large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more.

All Life needs for life is possible to will.

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

Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.

I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.

I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, To holy virgins in their ecstasies.

As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.