Every Cloud Has A Silver

And Feel By Turns The Bitter Change Of Fierce Extremes, Extremes By Change More Fierce.

Ease Would Recant Vows Made In Pain, As Violent And Void.

Nothing Profits More Than Self-esteem, Grounded On What Is Just And Right.

The Olive Grove Of Academe, Plato's Retirement, Where The Attic Bird Trills Her Thick-warbled Notes The Summer Long.

Abashed The Devil Stood And Felt How Awful Goodness Is And Saw Virtue In Her Shape How Lovely: And Pined His Loss