How good is life, the mere living!
Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.
Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.
Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!
If you can sit at set of sun And count the deeds that you have done And counting find oneself-denying act, one word That eased the heart of him that heard. One glance most kind, Which fell like sunshine where he went, Then you may count that day well spent.