Earth knows no desolation. She smells regeneration in the moist breath of decay.
Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars.
Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, And the great price we paid for it full worth: We have it only when we are half earth. Little avails that coinage to the old!
A human act once set in motion flows on forever to the great account. Our deathlessness is in what we do, not in what we are.
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