“Some pure ideal of a noble life That once seemed possible?”

Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife

Do not strive to grasp them all.

On her charm’d way But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun.

Did we not hear The flutter of its wings, and feel it near, And just within our reach? It was.

Do no cheat thy Heart and tell her, ‘Grief will pass away.’

Lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done.

One of these lives is a fancy, But the other one is true.

Take them readily when given, Ready, too, to let them go.

Every word man’s lips have uttered Echoes in God’s skies.

No star is lost once we have seen

One by one the moments fall; Some are coming, some are going

Do not look at life’s long sorrow; see how small each moment’s pain.

The men are much alarmed by certain speculations about women; and well they may be

Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife, / Some pure idea of a noble life / That once seemed possible?

Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming,

We always may be what we might have been.