Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife, / Some pure idea of a noble life / That once seemed possible?
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERRelated Topics
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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Do not strive to grasp them all.
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It seemed the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
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We always may be what we might have been.
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Joy is like restless day; but peace divine like quiet night.
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On her charm’d way But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun.
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For when the horse and ass begin to think and argue, adieu to riding and driving.
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With heaven’s light upon their wings:Every word has its own spirit
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Seated one day at the organ
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The stars can only shine In the dark night.
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One by one the moments fall; Some are coming, some are going
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Half my life is full of sorrow, Half of joy, still fresh and new
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Words are mighty, words are living:Serpents with their venomous stings,Or bright angels, crowding round us
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See how time makes all grief decay.
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Some pure ideal of a noble life That once seemed possible?
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Lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done.
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