Needs there groan a world in anguish just to teach us sympathy?
The body sprang At once to the height, and stayed; but the soul,-no!
Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet. From the ripple to run over in its mirth
Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
Genius has somewhat of the infantine; but of the childish not a touch or taint.