To have greatly dreamed precludes low ends.
Sorrow is the great idealizer.
To be young is surely the best, if the most precarious, gift of life.
Whom the heart of man shuts out, Sometimes the heart of God takes in, And fences them all round about With silence mid the worlds loud din.
Through aisles of long-drawn centuries my spirit walks in thought.
Laborin' man an' laborin' woman Hev one glory an' one shame; Ev'y thin' thet' s done inhuman Injers all on 'em the same.