See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!

Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and silence.

Nothing that is can pause or stay; / The moon will wax, the moon will wane, / The mist and cloud will turn to rain, / The rain to mist and cloud again, / Tomorrow be today.

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye.

Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest of all the arts.

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed; I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.

The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized.