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Like the stars that gem the sky,
Far apart, though seeming near,
In our light we scattered lie;
All is thus but starlight here.

What is social company

But a babbling summer stream?

What our wise philosophy

But the glancing of a dream?

Only when the sun of love

Melts the scattered stars of thought,

Only when we live above

What the dim-eyed world hath taught,

Only when our souls are fed

By the fount which gave them birth,
And by inspiration led

Which they never drew from earth,

We, like parted drops of rain,

Swelling till they meet and run,

Shall be all absorbed again,

Melting, flowing into one.

Christopher Pearse Cranch [1813-1892]

THE FUTURE

WHAT may we take into the vast Forever?
That marble door

Admits no fruit of all our long endeavor,
No fame-wreathed crown we wore,
No garnered lore.

What can we bear beyond the unknown portal?

No gold, no gains

Of all our toiling: in the life immortal

No hoarded wealth remains,

Nor gilds, nor stains.

The Future

ut that far abyss behind us entered here:

e with our coming, to remind us at wondrous world was near, hope, no fear.

nt, starless Night before us,

ked we glide:

s mapped the constellations o'er us,

comrade at our side,

b chart, no guide.

2837

s toward that midnight, black and hollow,

ur footsteps fare;

ning of a Father's hand we follow

His love alone is there,

No curse, no care.

Edward Rowland Sill [1841-1887]

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A merry

Your sad tires in a mile-a.

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

ON A CONTENTED MIND

WHEN all is done and said,

In the end this shall you find:
He most of all doth bathe in bliss
That hath a quiet mind;
And, clear from worldly cares,

To deem can be content
The sweetest time in all his life
In thinking to be spent.

The body subject is

To fickle Fortune's power, And to a million of mishaps

Is casual every hour;

And Death in time doth change

It to a clod of clay;

When as the mind, which is divine,

Runs never to decay.

Companion none is like

Unto the mind alone,

For many have been harmed by speech,

Through thinking, few, or none.
2838

leans to Attain Happy Life 2839

ar oftentimes restraineth words,

But makes not thoughts to cease;
d he speaks best that hath the skill
When for to hold his peace.

r wealth leaves us at death,
Our kinsmen at the grave;
ut virtues of the mind unto
The heavens with us we have;
herefore, for virtue's sake,
I can be well content

he sweetest time of all my life

To deem in thinking spent.

Thomas Vaux [1510-1556]

MESIA'S SONG

From "Farewell to Folly "

e the thoughts that savor of content, iet mind is richer than a crown, the nights in careless slumber spent, or estate scorns Fortune's angry frown: et content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Jenjoy, when princes oft do miss.

ely house that harbors quiet rest, ttage that affords no pride nor care, n that 'grees with country music best, veet consort of mirth and modest fare, life sets down a type of bliss: content both crown and kingdom is.

Robert Greene [1560?-1592]

: MEANS TO ATTAIN HAPPY LIFE

MARTIAL, the things that do attain

The happy life be these, I find:
The riches left, not got with pain;
The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;

The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule, no governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance;
The mean diet, no delicate fare;
True wisdom joined with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress;
The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night:
Contented with thine own estate,
Nor wish for death, nor fear his might.
After Martial, by Henry Howard [1517?-1547]

RISPOSTA

THERE is a jewel which no Indian mines
Can buy, no chemic art can counterfeit;
It makes men rich in greatest poverty;
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold,
The homely whistle to sweet music's strain:
Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent,
That much in little, all in naught-Content.

Unknown

A CONTENTED MIND

I WEIGH not fortune's frown or smile;
I joy not much in earthly joys;
I seek not state, I reck not style;
I am not fond of fancy's toys:
I rest so pleased with what I have,
I wish no more, no more I crave.

I quake not at the thunder's crack;
I tremble not at news of war;
I swound not at the news of wrack;
I shrink not at a blazing star;
I fear not loss, I hope not gain,
I envy none, I none disdain.

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