Never love with all your heart, It only ends in aching.
We shall not always plant while others reap
I was reared in the conservative atmosphere of a Methodist parsonage.
I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind
Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:/ To make a poet black, and bid him sing!
For we must be one thing or the other, an asset or a liability, the sinew in your wing to help you soar, or the chain to bind you to earth.