It beckons, I follow. Good-by to the light, I am going, O whither? Out into the night.

A face at the window, A tap on the pane; Who is it that wants me To-night in the rain?

Not what we would, but what we must Makes up the sum of living; Heaven is both more and less than just In taking and in giving.

Joy may be a miser, But Sorrow's purse is free.