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

Out of your whole life give but a moment! All of your life that has gone before, All to come after it, -so you ignore, So you make perfect the present, condense, In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment, Thought and feeling and soul and sense.

A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: See all, nor be afraid!

Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.

Truth is within ourselves. There is an inmost center in us all, where the truth abides in fullness.

God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.

I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.