One Thing Only Has Been

Is It So Small A Thing To Have Enjoyed The Sun.

Nor Bring, To See Me Cease To Live, Some Doctor Full Of Phrase And Fame, To Shake His Sapient Head, And Give The Ill He Cannot Cure A Name.

Calm Soul Of All Things! Make It Mine To Feel, Amid The City's Jar, That There Abides A Peace Of Thine, Man Did Not Make, And Cannot Mar! The Will To Neither Strive Nor Cry, The Power To Feel What Others Give! Calm, Calm Me More! Nor Let Me Die Before I Have Begun To Live.

Oxus, Forgetting The Bright Speed He Had In His High Mountain Cradle In Pamere, A Foiled Circuitous Wanderertill At Last The Longed-for Dash Of Waves Is Heard, And Wide His Luminous Home Of Waters Opens, Bright And Tranquil, From Whose Floor The New-bathed Stars Emerge, And Shine Upon The Aral Sea.

Business Could Not Make Dull, Nor Passion Wild; Who Saw Life Steadily, And Saw It Whole.