Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars.
We are betrayed by what is false within
See ye not, Courtesy is the true Alchemy, turning to gold all it touches and tries?
Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, And the great price we paid for it full worth: We have it only when we are half earth. Little avails that coinage to the old!
She poured a little social sewage into his ears.
A human act once set in motion flows on forever to the great account. Our deathlessness is in what we do, not in what we are.