That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it.
When is man strong until he feels alone?
'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.
My sun sets to rise again.
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.
Genius has somewhat of the infantine; but of the childish not a touch or taint.