Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife, / Some pure idea of a noble life / That once seemed possible?
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Anand Thakur
Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife, / Some pure idea of a noble life / That once seemed possible?
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Dreams grow holy put in action.
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Hark! the hours are softly calling Bidding Spring arise To listen to the rain-drops falling From the cloudy skies
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Do not strive to grasp them all.
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I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be a pleasant road.
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Each man has some part to play.
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Be strong to hope, O Heart! Though day is bright,
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But still our place is kept, and it will wait, Ready for us to fill it, soon or late.
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With heaven’s light upon their wings:Every word has its own spirit
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The men are much alarmed by certain speculations about women; and well they may be
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Hours are golden links, God’s token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them
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See how time makes all grief decay.
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Kinds hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy; God has none.
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I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys.
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We always may be what we might have been.
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Be strong, O Heart of mine, Look towards the light!
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