Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.

You would attain to the divine perfection.

Look not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.

And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, and silently steal away.

Ah! What would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before.

In what a forge and what a heat were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock; 'Tis of the wave and not the rock.

I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows.