Life Is The Gift Of God, And

For Next To Being A Great Poet Is The Power Of Understanding One.

The Warriors That Fought For Their Country, And Bled, Have Sunk To Their Rest; The Damp Earth Is Their Bed; No Stone Tells The Place Where Their Ashes Repose, Nor Points Out The Spot From The Graves Of Their Foes. They Died In Their Glory, Surrounded By Fame, And Victory's Loud Trump Their Death Did Proclaim; They Are Dead; But They Live In Each Patriot's Breast, And Their Names Are Engraven On Honor's Bright Crest.

A Boy's Will Is The Wind's Will, And The Thought's Of Youth Are Long, Long Thoughhts

Safe From Temptation, Safe From Sin's Pollution, She Lives Whom We Call Dead.

Every Man Is In Some Sort A Failure To Himself. No One Ever Reaches The Heights To Which He Aspires.