... And God, who studies each separate soul,
out of commonplace lives makes his beautiful whole.

These are weighty secrets, and we must whisper them.

Men die, but sorrow never dies;
The crowding years divide in vain,
And the wide world is knit with ties
of common brotherhood in pain.

The tasks are done and the tears are shed.
Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;
Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled,
Are healed with the healing that night has shed.

Spring's last-born darling, clear-eyed, sweet, Pauses a moment, with white twinkling feet, And golden locks in breezy play, Half teasing and half tender, to repeat Her song of "May."

Men die, but sorrow never dies; The crowding years divide in vain, And the wide world is knit with ties Of common brotherhood in pain.