So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!
O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.
I do what many dream of, all their lives
Praise is deeper than the lips
What's come to perfection perishes. Things learned on earth we shall practice in heaven; Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes.
Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
For I say this is death and the sole death,- When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest.
A man in armour is his armour's slave.
It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.
Make us happy and you make us good.
We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.
The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.
Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
Youth means love, Vows can't change nature, priests are only men.
What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.
Can we love but on condition that the thing we love must die?
In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!
If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.
What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.
O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
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