Books Are Sepulchres Of Thought.

Sail Forth Into The Sea Of Life, O Gentle, Loving, Trusting Wife, And Safe From All Adversity Upon The Bosom Of That Sea Thy Comings And Thy Goings Be! For Gentleness And Love And Trust Prevail O'er Angry Wave And Gust; And In The Wreck Of Noble Lives Something Immortal Still Survives.

Decide Not Rashly. The Decision Made Can Never Be Recalled. The Gods Implore Not, Plead Not, Solicit Not; They Only Offer Choice And Occasion, Which Once Being Passed Return No More. Dost Thou Accept The Gift?

It Is The Harvest Moon! On Gilded Vanes And Roofs Of Villages, On Woodland Crests And Their Aerial Neighborhoods Of Nests Deserted, On The Curtained Window-panes Of Rooms Where Children Sleep, On Country Lanes And Harvest-fields, Its Mystic Splendor Rests.

Then From The Neighboring Thicket The Mocking-bird, Wildest Of Singers, Swinging Aloft On A Willow Spray That Hung O'er The Water, Shook From His Little Throat Such Floods Of Delirious Music, That The Whole Air And The Woods And The Waves Seemed Silent To Listen.

Some Must Follow And Some Command, Through All Are Made Oclay.