A Lady With A Lamp Shall Stand

In The World's Broad Field Of Battle, In The Bivouac Of Life, Be Not Like Dumb, Driven Cattle! Be A Hero In The Strife!

A Great Sorrow, Like A Mariner's Quadrant, Brings The Sun At Noon Down To The Horizon, And We Learn Where We Are On The Sea Of Life.

The Air Is Full Of Farewells To The Dying. And Mournings For The Dead.

I Like That Ancient Saxon Phrase, Which Calls, The Burial-ground God's-acre.

Sunday Is The Golden Clasp That Binds Together The Volume Of The Week.