The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

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

Talent should minister to genius.

In this world, who can do a thing, will not; And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.

Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbeloving; Unless you can die when the dream is past- Oh, never call it loving!

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee; All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem; In the core of one pearl all the shade and the shine of the sea; Breath and bloom, shade and shine,- wonder, wealth, and-how far above them- Truth, that's brighter than gem, Truth, that's purer than pearl,- Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe- all were for me In the kiss of one girl.

Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.