On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
For life, with all its yields of joy and woe Is just a chance o' the prize of learning love.
Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!
Say not "a small event!" Why "small"? Costs it more pain that this ye call A "great event" should come to pass From that? Untwine me from the mass Of deeds which make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in or exceed!
Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.