No, though our all be spent— Heart's extremest love,
Spirit's whole intent,
All that nerve can feel,
All that brain invent,— Still beyond appeal Will Divine Desire Yet more excellent Precious cost require Of this mortal stuff,— Neve...
One paramount truth our society smothers in petty concern with position and pelf:
It isn't enough to exasperate others; you've got to remember to gladden yourself
I quarrel not with destiny,
But make the best of everything—The best is good enough for me
Leave discontent alone, and
Will shut her mouth and let you sing
Love is enough: though the World be
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,