And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
Men may come and men may go but I go on forever.
The year is dying in the night.
God's finger touched him, and he slept.
Arise, go forth, and conquer as of old.