Man is more than half of nature's treasure..

But what is Freedom? Rightly understood, A universal licence to be good..

A bard whom there were none to praise, And very few to read..

The soul of man is larger than the sky, Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark Of the unfathomed center..

Now shall I become a common tale, A ruin'd fragment of a worn-out world; Unchanging record of unceasing change. Eternal landmark to the tide of time.….

Commemoration of Brooke Foss Westcott, Bishop of Durham, Teacher, 1901 Be not afraid to pray... to pray is right. Pray if thou canst with hope; but e….

Be not afraid to pray--to pray is right. Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray, Though hope be weak or sick with long delay; Pray in the dark….

Now, we are agreed, I and my destinies. The total world, Above, below, whate'er is seen or known, And all that men, and all that gods enact, Hopes, f….

Twere better far That gods should quaff their nectar merrily, And men sing out the day like grasshoppers, So may they haply lull the watchful thunder..

Thou breeze, That mak'st an organ of the mighty sea, Obedient to thy wilful phantasies, Provoke him not to scorn; but soft and low, As pious maid awa….

Never till this day Did life disturb the dense eternity Of joyless quiet; never skylark's song, Or storm-bird's prescient scream, or eaglet's cry, Ma….

Go your way. Forget Prometheus, And all the woe that he is doom'd to bear; By his own choice this vile estate preferring To ignorant bliss and unfelt….

If we take care of the inches, we will not have to worry about the miles..

Valor and power may gain a lasting memory, but where are they when the brave and mighty are departed? Their effects may remain, but they live not in ….

Long time a child, and still a child, when years Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I; For yet I lived like one not born to die; A thriftless prodi….

Oh, where is man That mortal god, that hath no mortal kin Or like on earth? Shall Nature's orator The interpreter of all her mystic strains Shall he ….

Lightly tripping o'er the land, Deftly skimming o'er the main, Scarce our fairy wings bedewing With the frothy mantling brine, Scarce our silver feet….

The merry year is born Like the bright berry from the naked thorn..

On this hapless earth There 's small sincerity of mirth, And laughter oft is but an art To drown the outcry of the heart..

Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are..

Is love a fancy, or a feeling?.