Sable-vested Night, Eldest Of Things.

Most Men Admire Virtue Who Follow Not Her Lore.

Is It True, O Christ In Heaven, That The Highest Suffer The Most? That The Strongest Wander Furthest And Most Hopelessly Are Lost? That The Mark Of Rank In Nature Is Capacity For Pain? That The Anguish Of The Singer Makes The Sweetness Of The Strain?

Therefore, If At Great Things Thou Wouldst Arrive, Get Riches First, Get Wealth.

And The Jocund Rebecks Sound To Many A Youth, And Many A Maid, Dancing In The Checkered Shade. And Young And Old Come Forth To Play On A Sunshine Holiday.

Solitude Sometimes Is Best Society.