A person who has not done one half his day's work by ten o clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone.
Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?
No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.
Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee.