Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming,
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Anand Thakur
Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming,
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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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Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife, / Some pure idea of a noble life / That once seemed possible?
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One of these lives is a fancy, But the other one is true.
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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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Do no cheat thy Heart and tell her, ‘Grief will pass away.’
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The stars can only shine In the dark night.
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On her charm’d way But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun.
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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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Every word man’s lips have uttered Echoes in God’s skies.
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We always may be what we might have been.
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Seated one day at the organ
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Each man has some part to play.
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Some pure ideal of a noble life That once seemed possible?
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True or false, that never dies
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Do not look at life’s long sorrow; see how small each moment’s pain.
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