Her Blue Eyes Sought The West Afar,

The Tear, Down Childhood's Cheek That Flows, Is Like The Dewdrop On The Rose; When Next The Summer Breeze Comes By And Waves The Bush, The Flower Is Dry.

What An Ornament And Safeguard Is Humor! Far Better Than Wit For A Poet And Writer. It Is A Genius Itself, And So Defends From The Insanities.

Alas!... What Is It, Valiant Knight, Save An Offering Of Sacrifice To A Demon Of Vain Glory, And A Passing Through The Fire Of Moloch? What Remains To You As A Prize Of All The Blood You Have Spilled, Of All The Travail And Pain You Have Endured, Of All The Tears Which Your Deeds Have Caused, When Death Hath Broken The Strong Man's Spear, And Overtaken The Speed Of His War-horse?

For Deadly Fear Can Time Outgo, And Blanch At Once The Hair.

Discretion Is The Perfection Of Reason, And A Guide To Us In All The Duties Of Life.