God Has Given You One Face, And

The Gloomy Shade Of Death.

I Would Challenge You To A Battle Of Wits, But I See You Are Unarmed!

In Nature's Infinite Book Of Secrecy A Little I Can Read.

I Have More Care To Stay Than Will To Go.

When He Shall Die, Take Him And Cut Him Out In Little Stars, And He Will Make The Face Of Heaven So Fine That All The World Will Be In Love With Night And Pay No Worship To The Garish Sun.