I Shot An Arrow Into

The Great Tragedy Of The Average Man Is That He Goes To His Grave With His Music Still In Him.

Sorrow And Silence Are Strong, And Patient Endurance Is Godlike.

As To The Pure Mind All Things Are Pure, So To The Poetic Mind All Things Are Poetical.

Lives Of Great Men All Remind Us We Can Make Our Lives Sublime, And Departing, Leave Behind Us Footprints On The Sands Of Time.

The Leaves Of Memory Seemed To Make A Mournful Rustling In The Dark