But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

Pippa's Song The year's at the spring The day's at the morn Morning's at seven, The Hill side's dew-pearled The lark's on the wing The snail's on the thorn God's in his heaven- All's right with the world

The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.

Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals up.

Any nose may ravage with impunity a rose.

All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.

Make no more giants, God!But elevate the race at once!