The Young May Die, But The Old

The Hooded Clouds, Like Friars, Tell Their Beads In Drops Of Rain.

Each Morning Sees Some Task Begin, Each Evening Sees It Close.

But The Great Master Said, "i See No Best In Kind, But In Degree; I Gave A Various Gift To Each, To Charm, To Strengthen, And To Teach".

My Designs And Labors And Aspirations Are My Only Friends.

How Beautiful Is The Rain! After The Dust And The Heat, In The Broad And Fiery Street, In The Narrow Lane, How Beautiful Is The Rain!