Ah, The Souls Of Those

A Boy's Will Is The Wind's Will, And The Thought's Of Youth Are Long, Long Thoughhts

Races, Better Than We, Have Leaned On Her Wavering Promise, Having Naught Else But Hope.

We Judge Ourselves By What We Feel Capable Of Doing, While Others Judge Us By What We Have Already Done.

All Nature ... Is A Respiration Of The Spirit Of God, Who, In Breathing Hereafter Will Inhale It Into His Bosom Again, So That Nothing But God Alone Will Remain.

Maiden, That Read'st This Simple Rhyme, Enjoy Thy Youth, It Will Not Stay; Enjoy The Fragrance Of Thy Prime, For Oh, It Is Not Always May!