Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry’s haunting curse, the Incomplete!
What joy is better than news of friends?
One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.
You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.
Who knows most, doubts most.
Tis Man’s to explore up and down, inch by inch, with the taper his reason.
I think, am sure, a brother’s love exceeds All the world’s loves in its unworldliness.
Of power does Man possess no particle: Of knowledge-just so much as show that still It ends in ignorance on every side...
Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?
Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
Where the apple reddens never pry – lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
And gain is gain, however small.
There’s a new tribunal now higher than God’s -The educated man’s!
Never the time and the place And the loved one all together.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears Of pain, darkness and cold.
A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
Time’swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.
Who knows but the world may end tonight.
Each life unfulfilled, you see; It hangs still, patchy and scrappy: We have not sighed deep, laughed free, Starved, feasted, despaired, – been happy.
God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her.