Let Us Be Content To Work To

A Great Man Leaves Clean Work Behind Him, And Requires No Sweeper Up Of The Chips.

And Friends, Dear Friends,--when It Shall Be That This Low Breath Is Gone From Me, And Gone My Bier Ye Come To Weep, Let One, Most Loving Of You All, Say, "not A Tear Must O'er Her Fall; He Giveth His Beloved Sleep.

Whoso Loves, Believes In The Impossible

God Keeps A Niche In Heaven, To Hold Our Idols; And Albeit He Brake Them To Our Faces, And Denied That Our Close Kisses Should Impair Their White,-- I Know We Shall Behold Them Raised, Complete, The Dust Swept From Their Beauty, Glorified, New Memnons Singing In The Great God-light.

And I Must Bear What Is Ordained With Patience, Being Aware Necessity Doth Front The Universe With An Invincible Gesture.