The Old Church Tower And

Look On The Grave Where Thou Must Sleep Thy Last, And Strongest Foe; It Is Endurance Not To Weep, If That Repose Seem Woe.

And There You See The Distinction Between Our Feelings: Had He Been In My Place, And I In His, Though I Hated Him With A Hatred That Turned My Life To Gall, I Never Would Have Raised A Hand Against Him. You May Look Incredulous, If You Please! I Never Would Have Banished Him From Her Society As Long As She Desired His. The Moment Her Regard Ceased, I Would Have Torn His Heart Out And Drank His Blood! But, Till Then - If You Don't Believe Me, You Don't Know Me - Til Then, I Would Have Died By Inches Before I Touched A Single Hair On His Head!

But There's This One Difference: One Is Gold Put To The Use Of Paving-stones, And The Other Is Tin Polished To Ape A Service Of Silver. Mine Has Nothing Valuable About It; Yet I Shall Have The Merit Of Making It Go As Far As Such Poor Stuff Can Go. His Had First-rate Qualities, And They Are Lost, Rendered Worst Than Unavailing.

Lines I Die But When The Grave Shall Press The Heart So Long Endeared To Thee When Earthy Cares No More Distress And Earthy Joys Are Nought To Me. Weep Not, But Think That I Have Past Before Thee O'er The Sea Of Gloom. Have Anchored Safe And Rest At Last Where Tears And Mouring Can Not Come. 'tis I Should Weep To Leave Thee Here On That Dark Ocean Sailing Drear With Storms Around And Fears Before And No Kind Light To Point The Shore. But Long Or Short Though Life May Be 'tis Nothing To Eternity. We Part Below To Meet On High Where Blissful Ages Never Die.

You Have Been Compelled To Cultivate Your Reflective Faculties, For Want Of Occasions For Frittering Your Life Away In Silly Trifles.