All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

A minute's success pays the failure of years.

For life, with all its yields of joy and woe Is just a chance o' the prize of learning love.

Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.

Graved inside of it, "Italy".

I know what I want and what I might gain, and yet, how profitless to know.

In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.