What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
Praise is deeper than the lips
My sun sets to rise again.
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.
The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.