♫•✿•Rhythmic•.Grace•✿•♫

Men say the world is full of fear and hate, And all life's ripening harvest-fields await The restless sickle of relentless fate.      

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too:

I went down to the  river , I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank.

She  was a phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament;