He makes no friends who never made a foe.
Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed.
There has fallen a splendid tearFrom the passion-flower at the gate.She is coming, my dove, my dear;She is coming, my life, my fate.The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"And the lily whispers, "I wait."She is coming, my own, my sweet;Were it ever so airy a tread,My heart would hear her and beat,Were it earth in an earthy bed;My dust would hear her and beat,Had I lain for a century dead,Would start and tremble under her feet,And blossom in purple and red.
And down I went to fetch my bride:But, Alice, you were ill at ease;This dress and that by turns you tried,Too fearful that you should not please.I loved you better for your fears,I knew you could not look but well;And dews, that would have fall'n in tears,I kiss'd away before they fell.
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and for ever.
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die
For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see,Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.
A lie that is half-truth is the darkest of all lies.
Virtue - to be good and just -Every heart, when sifted well,Is a clot of warmer dust,Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.- The Vision of Sin