Life Hath Quicksands, Life Hath Snares!

Silence And Solitude, The Soul's Best Friends.

Many People Do Not Allow Their Principles To Take Root, But Pull Them Up Every Now And Then, As Children Do The Flowers They Have Planted, To See If They Are Growing.

The Atmosphere Breathes Rest And Comfort, And The Many Chambers Seem Full Of Welcomes.

To Say The Least, A Town Life Makes One More Tolerant And Liberal In One's Judgment Of Others.

Thus, Seamed With Many Scars Bursting These Prison Bars, Up To Its Native Stars My Soul Ascended! There From The Flowing Bowl Deep Drinks The Warrior's Soul, Skoal! To The Northland! Skoal! Thus The Tale Ended.