I Rejoiced In My Progress, Mourned My

Love Is The Crowning Grace Of Humanity.

Virtue Is Health, Vice Is Sickness.

Go, Grieving Rimes Of Mine, To That Hard Stone Whereunder Lies My Darling, Lies My Dear, And Cry To Her To Speak From Heaven's Sphere.

For Death Betimes Is Comfort, Not Dismay, And Who Can Rightly Die Needs No Delay.

The End Of Doubt Is The Beginning Of Repose.