The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down, and still fluttered down the snow.

For men in earnest have no time to waste In patching fig-leaves for the naked truth.

Over our manhood bend the skies; Against our fallen and traitor lives The great winds utter prophecies; With our faint hearts the mountain strives, Its arms outstretched, the druid wood Waits with its benedicite And to our age’s drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea.

Take winter as you find him, and he turns out to be a thoroughly honest fellow; with no nonsense in him, which is a great comfort in the long-run.

There are two kinds of weakness, that which breaks and that which bends.

Worshippers of light ancestral make the present light a crime.

When I was a beggarly boy, And lived in a cellar damp, I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdin's lamp.