What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

Needs there groan a world in anguish just to teach us sympathy?

Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.

Praise is deeper than the lips

I hear you reproach, "But delay was best, For their end was a crime." Oh, a crime will do As well, I reply, to serve for a test As a virtue golden through and through, Sufficient to vindicate itself And prove its worth at a moment's view! . . . . . . Let a man contend to the uttermost For his life's set prize, be it what it will! The counter our lovers staked was lost As surely as if it were lawful coin; And the sin I impute to each frustrate ghost Is-the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin, Though the end in sight was a vice, I say.

I hold that a man should strive to the uttermost for his life's set prize.

The great mind knows the power of gentleness.