I'll lift you and you lift me, and we'll both ascend together.

Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

Rest if you must, but never quit.

For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.

If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!

Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, Our burden is our boon; The curse of earth's gray morning is The blessing of its noon.