Let's Learn To Live, For We Must

With Awe, Around These Silent Walks I Tread; These Are The Lasting Mansions Of The Dead.

We Cannot Heal The Throbbing Heart Till We Discern The Wounds Within.

But Jest Apart--what Virtue Canst Thou Trace In That Broad Trim That Hides Thy Sober Face? Does That Long-skirted Drab, That Over-nice And Formal Clothing, Prove A Scorn Of Vice? Then For Thine Accent--what In Sound Can Be So Void Of Grace As Dull Monotony?

In This Wild World The Fondest And The Best Are The Most Tried, Most Troubled And Distress'd.

O Days Remember'd Well! Remember'd All! The Bitter Sweet, The Honey And The Gall; Those Garden Rambles In The Silent Night, Those Trees So Shady, And That Moon Se Bright, That Thickset Alley By The Arbor Clos'd, That Woodbine Seat Where We At Last Repos'd; And Then The Hopes That Came And Then Were Gone, Quick As The Clouds Beneath The Moon Past On.