Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!
Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.
Make us happy and you make us good.
The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!