Beautiful twilight, at set of sun;
Beautiful goal, with race well won;
Beautiful rest, with work well done.
Beautiful graves, where grasses creep,
Where brown leaves fall, where drifts lie deep;
Over wornout hands__oh, beautiful sleep !
BUT words are flames; once given vent and space,
The fiery tide fast overleaps its shore,
And seldom ebbs again into its place.
WHO builds above the clouds must dwell alone;
I count good fellowship above a throne.