Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.

Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.

I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

It is hard to wive and thrive both in a year.

O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.

Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.