For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent flooding in, the main.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand sweet song.
A Farewell.
Note 1. Longfellow: Ships that Pass in the Night, page 644. [back]