Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour:
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
Wordsworth (After-Thought).
You can’t turn curds to milk again,
Nor Now, by wishing, back to Then;
And, having tasted stolen honey,