But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.

The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!

How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!

'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.

Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.

I'll teach my boy the sweetest things; I'll teach him how the owlet sings.

The memory of the just survives in Heaven.