Praise is deeper than the lips
God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world.
Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
For I say this is death and the sole death,- When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest.
Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!
Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.