Only yield when you must, never "give up the ship," but fight on to the last "with a stiff upper lip!

Laugh out, O stream, from your bed of green, / Where you lie in the sun's embrace; / And talk to the reeds that o'er you lean / To touch your dimpled face.

Only yield when you must, never "give up the ship," but fight on to the last "with a stiff upper lip!

I think true love is never blind, / But rather brings an added light; / An inner vision quick to find / The beauties hid from common sight.

For of all hard things to bear and grin, / The hardest is knowing you're taken in.

Sometimes, I think the things we see are shadows of the things to be; that what we plan we build

And never since harvests were ripened, / Or laborers born, / Have men gathered figs of the thistle, / Or grapes of the thorn!