Whoever Lives True Life, Will

My Sun Sets To Raise Again.

World's Use Is Cold, World's Love Is Vain, World's Cruelty Is Bitter Bane; But Is Not The Fruit Of Pain.

O Earth, So Full Of Dreary Noises! O Men, With Wailing In Your Voices! O Delved Gold, The Wader's Heap! O Strife, O Curse, That O'er It Fall! God Makes A Silence Through You All, And "giveth His Beloved, Sleep.

Yet How Proud We Are, In Daring To Look Down Upon Ourselves!

A Great Man Leaves Clean Work Behind Him, And Requires No Sweeper Up Of The Chips.