Remorse Weeps Tears Of Blood.

Often Do The Spirits Stride On Before The Event; And In Today Already Walks Tomorrow.

Conscience Is The Pulse Of Reason

O Let Me Be Awake, My God! Or Let Me Sleep Alway.

Life Went A-maying With Nature, Hope, And Poesy, When I Was Young!

There Is In Every Human Countenance Either A History Or A Prophecy Which Must Sadden, Or At Least Soften Every Reflecting Observer.