The Young May Die, But The Old

Sweet As The Tender Fragrance That Survives, When Martyred Flowers Breathe Out Their Little Lives, Sweet As A Song That Once Consoled Our Pain, But Never Will Be Sung To Us Again, Is They Remembrance. Now The Hour Of Rest Hath Come To Thee. Sleep, Darling: It Is Best.

The Day Is Done, And The Darkness Falls From The Wings Of Night, As A Feather Is Wafted Downward From An Eagle In His Flight.

The Foods That Prolong Life And Increase Purity, Vigour, Health, Cheerfulness, And Happiness Are Those That Are Delicious, Soothing, Substantial And Agreeable... Foods That Are Bitter, Sour, Salt, Over-hot, Pungent, Dry And Burning Produce Unhappiness, Repentance And Disease.

It Is The Harvest Moon! On Gilded Vanes And Roofs Of Villages, On Woodland Crests And Their Aerial Neighborhoods Of Nests Deserted, On The Curtained Window-panes Of Rooms Where Children Sleep, On Country Lanes And Harvest-fields, Its Mystic Splendor Rests.

Noble Souls, Through Dust And Heat, Rise From Disaster And Defeat The Stronger.