The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day: Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away, To sleep! to sleep! Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past: Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.
A day may sink or save a realm.
Theirs is not to make reply: Theirs is not to reason why: Theirs is but to do and die.
All things human change.
It is hard to wive and thrive both in a year.
Sweet is true love though given in vain, in vain; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain: I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be: Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me. O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. ... I fain would follow love, if that could be; I needs must follow death, who calls for me; Call and I follow, I follow! let me die.
If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.
I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul
The old order changes yielding place to new.
The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.
A still small voice spake unto me, 'Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?
Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humors lead, A meaning suited to his mind.
He that shuts love out, in turn shall be Shut out from love, and on her threshold lie, Howling in outer darkness.
Trust me not at all, or all in all.
The many fail: the one succeeds.
Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.
Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more.
And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, moulding men.
His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
This barren verbiage, current among men, Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment.
The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.
Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again
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