His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.
Not with dreams, but with blood and with iron, Shall a nation be moulded at last.
The beast faith lives on its own dung.
Faith speaks when hope is disassembled; faith lives when hope dies dead.
The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.
Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow.