True Love's The Gift Which

No Scene Of Mortal Life But Teems With Mortal Woe.

Sordid Selfishness Doth Contract And Narrow Our Benevolence, And Cause Us, Like Serpents, To Infold Ourselves Within Ourselves, And To Turn Out Our Stings To The Entire World Besides.

Warriors! And Where Are Warriors Found, If Not On Martial Britain's Ground? And Who, When Waked With Note Of Fire, Love More Than They The British Lyre?

All Live By Seeming. The Beggar Begs With It, And The Gay Courtier Gains Land And Title, Rank And Rule, By Seeming; The Clergy Scorn It Not, And The Bold Soldier Will Eke With It His Service.--all Admit It, All Practise It; And He Who Is Content With Showing What He Is, Shall Have Small Credit In Church, Or Camp, Or State.--so Wags The World.

Hope Is Brightest When It Dawns From Fears.