Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife, / Some pure idea of a noble life / That once seemed possible? ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming, ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
Kinds hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy; God has none. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
But still our place is kept, and it will wait, Ready for us to fill it, soon or late. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
With heaven’s light upon their wings:Every word has its own spirit ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
Hours are golden links, God’s token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
And yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret, And now live idle in a vague regret ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur
No star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Anand Thakur