To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty

O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!

I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.

To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.

Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu

Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.

Failure is in a sense the highway to success, as each discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.