Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.

The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields above the sea, Among the winds at play.

Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!

The critics could never mortify me out of heart - because I love poetry for its own sake, - and, tho' with no stoicism and some ambition, care more for my poems than for my poetic reputation.

She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness; Round our restlessness, His rest.

What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed - and not for pay? Absurd - or insincere?