The trivial round, the common task

The voice that breathed o'er Eden, That earliest wedding day, The primal marriage blessing, It hath not passed away.

And help us, this and every day, To live more nearly as we pray.

As fire is kindled by fire, so is a poet's mind kindled by contact with a brother poet.

The deeds we do, the words we say,— Into still air they seem to fleet, We count them ever past; But they shall last, In the dread judgment they And we shall meet!

When you find yourself, as I daresay you sometimes do, overpowered as it were by melancholy, the best way is to go out, and do something kind to somebody or other.

Sun of my soul! thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near: Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes!