Our Torments Also May In

Ere The Blabbing Eastern Scout, The Nice Morn, On Th' Indian Steep From Her Cabin'd Loop-hole Peep.

Thy Actions To Thy Words Accord; Thy Words To Thy Large Heart Give Utterance Due; Thy Heart; Contains Of Good, Wise, Just, The Perfect Shape.

What Reinforcement We May Gain From Hope; If Not, What Resolution From Despair.

Hate Is Of All Things The Mightiest Divider, Nay, Is Division Itself. To Couple Hatred, Therefore, Though Wedlock Try All Her Golden Links, And Borrow To Tier Aid All The Iron Manacles And Fetters Of Law, It Does But Seek To Twist A Rope Of Sand.

In The Sweat Of Thy Face Thou Shalt Eat Bread, Till Thou Return Unto The Ground; For Thou Out Of The Ground Wast Taken; Know Thy Birth, For Dust Thou Art, And Shalt To Dust Return.