And thou fearest to die! Wouldst live for ever and ever?
Live in the Whole! It abides when thou art hurried away.

Time irrevocably flies, towards changeless eternity wending.
Thou canst fetter time if thou art honest and true.

Though I go to my bed it is not sleep I desire, for the flood is so great and my mill is unshod; the mill-due is to be paid if this year is not to ruin me, and get it I must, though it be that I borrow it.
I dearly love this mason that hath satisfied my spirit; thou great one of sweet-speaking mouth, though silent thou art eloquent; on my word, the castles themselves I'd get for the asking, and despite my state that hath laid me under a debt.

Songs anew of honor framing,
Sing ye to the Lord aloud!
All his wondrous works proclaiming;
Wondrous deeds our God hath done:
Glorious vict'ry
His right hand and arm have won.

Let ev'ry creature rise
To bless Jehovah's name,
Let earth, and seas, and skies
Spread wide his mighty fame:
His praises sing, ye ransom'd slaves!
Proclaim him King — th' oppress'd he saves.

Pluck from the garland of Homer, and number the tale of the Fathers,
Who have contributed all, parts of the epic sublime!
But one mother above it acknowledges, and her appearance
Her personality tells — Nature, her features are thine!

On, thou mariner bold! though wags look on in derision,
Though the sailor o'ercome drop from the tiller his hand,
On, ever on to the West! for the land is undoubtedly westward,
As thy reason avers and a presentiment tells.
Trust in the guiding of God and the murmuring paths of the ocean,
Were it till now unborn, ocean would come to thine aid.
Genius hand in hand with Nature is ever united,
Genius animates hope, Nature the promise performs.

Deep in the heart of this dim wood
Our Naiad pours her slender urn,
Nor dreams that round its gathering flood
The fortunes of a world will turn.

Take, gracious maid, this ocean prize
Which the sea-goddess sends to thee
For tribute: vanquished by thine eyes
The Cyprian yields her sovranty.

Again my lamp is burning dim,
Again the weary wick I trim,
And yet my sweet delays.
By the great queen of love she swore
To-night would see her at my door
But now she heedless stays.
Ah, would the flame that burns my breast
Might with my lamp sink soft to rest!