The Field Of Doom Bears Death As

Learning Is Ever In The Freshness Of Its Youth, Even For The Old.

They Who Prosper Take On Airs Of Vanity.

When A Man Dies, Flesh Is Frayed And Broken In The Fire, But Not His Will.

Still To The Sufferer Comes, As Due From God, A Glory That To Suffering Owes Its Birth.

Joy Steals Upon Me, Such Joy As Calls Forth Tears.