Religion Blushing, Veils Her Sacred Fires, And

Now Hollow Fires Burn Out To Black, And Lights Are Fluttering Low: Square Your Shoulders, Lift Your Pack And Leave Your Friends And Go. O Never Fear, Lads, Naught's To Dread, Look Not To Left Nor Right: In All The Endless Road You Tread There's Nothing But The Night.

Placed On This Isthmus Of A Middle State, A Being Darkly Wise And Rudely Great... He Hangs Between; In Doubt To Act Or Rest; In Doubt To Deem Himself A God, Or Beast; In Doubt His Mind Or Body To Prefer; Born To Die, And Reasoning But To Err.

There Is Nothing That Is Meritorious But Virtue And Friendship.

Old Politicians Chew On Wisdom Past, And Totter On In Business To The Last.

When Rumours Increase, And When There Is An Abundance Of Noise And Clamour, Believe The Second Report.