Man Is His Own Star,

Charity And Treating Begin At Home.

Our Acts Our Angels Are, For Good Or Ill, Our Fatal Shadows That Walk By Us Still.

Weep No More, Nor Sigh, Nor Groan, Sorrow Calls No Time That 's Gone; Violets Plucked, The Sweetest Rain Makes Not Fresh Nor Grow Again.

Man Is His Own Star, And The Soul That Can, Render An Honest And A Perfect Man, Commands All Light, All Influence, All Fate: Nothing To Him Falls Early Or Too Late. Our Acts Are Angels Are, For Good Or Ill: Our Fatal Shadows That Walk By Us Still.

Joys As Winged Dreams Fly Fast, / Why Should Sadness Longer Last? / Grief Is But A Wound To Woe; / Gentlest Fair, Mourn, Mourn No Moe.