How they satiate the vacant soul by influx, and draw forth the troubled from its prickly nest!--Well, and you are my sunlighted land.

And you will have to be fought for.

And I see not the less repose in the prospect! Part of you may be shifty-sand.

The sands are famous for their golden shining--as you shine.

Well, then, we must make the quicksands concrete.
I have a perfect faith in you, and in the winning of you.