Wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower.

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

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

Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.

Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.

It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.

Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.