Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it.
Know how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong.
These stars of earth, these golden flowers.
Take them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone!
The Nile, forever new and old, Among the living and the dead, Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears.