The Sunshine Fails, The Shadows

To Be Seventy Years Old Is Like Climbing The Alps. You Reach A Snow-crowned Summit, And See Behind You The Deep Valley Stretching Miles And Miles Away, And Before You Other Summits Higher And Whiter, Which You May Have Strength To Climb, Or May Not. Then You Sit Down And Meditate And Wonder Which It Will Be.

Softly The Evening Came /with The Sunset/.

In What A Forge And What A Heat Were Shaped The Anchors Of Thy Hope! Fear Not Each Sudden Sound And Shock; 'tis Of The Wave And Not The Rock.

Weak Minds Make Treaties With The Passions They Cannot Overcome, And Try To Purchase Happiness At The Expense Of Principle; But The Resolute Will Of A Strong Man Scorns Such Means, And Struggles Nobly With His Foe To Achieve Great Deeds.

Defeat May Be Victory In Disguise.