Thomas Talfourd

Nevermore Let the great interests of the State depend Upon the thousand chances that may sway A piece of human frailty; swear to me That ye will seek hereafter in yourselves The means of sovereignty.

In ourselves In our own honest hearts and chainless hands Will be our safeguard:

Fill the seats of justice With good men, not so absolute in goodness As to forget what human frailty is.

’T is a little thing To give a cup of water; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.

So his life has flowed From its mysterious urn a sacred stream, In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure Alone are mirrored; which, though shapes of ill May hover round its surface, glides in light, And takes no shadow from them.