As Hope And Fear Alternate

Sordid Selfishness Doth Contract And Narrow Our Benevolence, And Cause Us, Like Serpents, To Infold Ourselves Within Ourselves, And To Turn Out Our Stings To The Entire World Besides.

In The Lost Battle, Borne Down By The Flying, Where Mingles War's Rattle With Groans Of The Dying.

Though Varying Wishes, Hopes, And Fears, Fever'd The Progress Of These Years, Yet Now, Days, Weeks, And Months But Seem The Recollection Of A Dream.

All Is Possible For Those Who Dare To Die!

Spangling The Wave With Lights As Vain As Pleasures In The Vale Of Pain, That Dazzle As They Fade.