I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys.
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Anand Thakur
I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERSome pure ideal of a noble life That once seemed possible?
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERWith heaven’s light upon their wings:Every word has its own spirit
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERDo not look at life’s long sorrow; see how small each moment’s pain.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTEROne of these lives is a fancy, But the other one is true.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERWords are mighty, words are living:Serpents with their venomous stings,Or bright angels, crowding round us
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERHave we not all, amid life’s petty strife, / Some pure idea of a noble life / That once seemed possible?
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERJoy is like restless day; but peace divine like quiet night.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERLest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERDo no cheat thy Heart and tell her, ‘Grief will pass away.’
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERBut still our place is kept, and it will wait, Ready for us to fill it, soon or late.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERNo star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERWe always may be what we might have been.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERAnd yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret, And now live idle in a vague regret
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERBe strong, O Heart of mine, Look towards the light!
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERFor when the horse and ass begin to think and argue, adieu to riding and driving.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER