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Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star!
Most progress is most failure.
In the morning of the world, When earth was nigher heaven than now.
Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!
A minute of success pays for years of failure.
The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.
My business is not to remake myself, but to make the absolute best of what God made.
Let friend trust friends, and love demand love's like.
Pleasure must succeed to pleasure, else past pleasure turns to pain
In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity
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.
Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.
There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.
The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.
'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls.
And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again.
The body sprang At once to the height, and stayed; but the soul,-no!
Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!
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