Break, break, break, on thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

Behind him lay the gray Azores, Behind the Gates of Hercules...

And then I’d seemed to notice that her cup was being a little differently picked up.

How doth the little busy bee  Improve each shining hour...

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

And when Peace here does house He comes with work to do...

A violet by a mossy stone half hidden from the eye!

But I have promises to keep...