And he who gives a child a treat Makes joy-bells ring in Heaven's street, And he who gives a child a home Builds palaces in Kingdom come, And she who gives a baby birth Brings Saviour Christ again to Earth.

Success is the brand on the brow of the man who aimed too low.

But he has gone, A nation's memory and veneration, Among the radiant, ever venturing on, Somewhere, with morning, as such spirits will.

I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.

Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.

I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.

The luck will alter and the star will rise.