Tender-handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains.
Fill up each hour with what will last;
Buy up the moments as they go;
The life above, when this is past,
Is the ripe fruit of life below.
New occasions teach new duties; time makes ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth.
—Lowell
The heights by great men reached and kept,
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.
—Longfellow
Nothing useless is, or low,
Each thing in its place is best,
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.
—Longfellow
And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.
—Clough