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In any man who dies there dies with him, his first snow and kiss and fight... Not people die but worlds die in them.
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These Flemish pictures of old days; Sit with me by the homestead hearth,...
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Oh, for boyhood's painless play, sleep that wakes in laughing day, health that mocks the doctor's rules, knowledge never learned of schools.
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For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, "It might have been!"
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Yet sometimes glimpses on my sight, Through present wrong the eternal right; And, step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man...
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