Feeling Is Deep And Still;

Life Hath Quicksands, Life Hath Snares!

Ah Me! What Wonder-working, Occult Science Can From The Ashes In Our Hearts Once More The Rose Of Youth Restore? What Craft Of Alchemy Can Bid Defiance To Time And Change, And For A Single Hour Renew This Phantom-flower?

Ah, How Good It Feels! The Hand Of An Old Friend.

It Is The Heart And Not The Brain, That To The Highest Doth Attain.

The Star Of The Unconquered Will, He Rises In My Breast, Serene, And Resolute, And Still, And Calm, And Self-possessed.