Soldier, Rest! Thy Warfare O'er.

Sleep The Sleep That Knows Not Breaking, Morn Of Toil, Nor Night Of Waking.

Where Shall The Lover Rest, Whom The Fates Sever From His True Maiden's Breast, Parted For Ever? Where, Through Groves Deep And High, Sounds The Far Billow, Where Early Violets Die, Under The Willow.

The Will To Do, The Soul To Dare..

We Shall Never Learn To Feel And Respect Our Real Calling And Destiny, Unless We Have Taught Ourselves To Consider Every Thing As Moonshine, Compared With The Education Of The Heart.

The Sun Never Sets On The Immense Empire Of Charles V.