Choose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.

Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.

The pain others give passes away in their later kindness, but that of our own blunders, especially when they hurt our vanity, never passes away

Nothing that we love overmuch Is ponderable to our touch.

Imagining in excited reverie That the future years had come, Dancing to a frenzied drum, Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

Come let us mock at the great That had such burdens on the mind And toiled so hard and late To leave some monument behind, Nor thought of the leveling wind.

I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.