Calm soul of all things! make it mine

Yes: in the sea of life enisl’d, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone.

With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day and wish’t were done. Not till the hours of light return All we have built do we discern.

I keep saying, Shakspeare, Shakspeare, you are as obscure as life is.

We cannot kindle when we will The fire that in the heart resides, The spirit bloweth and is still, In mystery our soul abides; — But tasks, in hours of insight willed, Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled.

A God, a God their severance ruled! And bade betwixt their shores to be The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.

The same heart beats in every human breast!