The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.

O mighty-mouthed inventor of harmonies, O skilled to sing of Time or Eternity, God-gifted organ-voice of England, Milton, a name to resound for ages.

Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.

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

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.

Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.

I know transplanted human worth will bloom to profit otherwhere.