This could but have happened once,- And we missed it, lost it forever.
No, when the fight begins within himself, / A man's worth something.
My care is for myself; Myself am whole and sole reality.
Each life unfulfilled, you see; It hangs still, patchy and scrappy: We have not sighed deep, laughed free, Starved, feasted, despaired,โbeen happy.
God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.
To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.