Man Who Man Would Be, Must Rule

Death Is The Veil Which Those Who Live Call Life; They Sleep, And It Is Lifted.

Life, Like A Dome Of Many-coloured Glass, Stains The White Radiance Of Eternity.

January Gray Is Here, Like A Sexton By Her Grave; February Bears The Bier, March With Grief Doth Howl And Rave, And April Weeps -- But, O Ye Hours! Follow With May's Fairest Flowers.

Cold Hopes Swarm Like Worms Within Our Living Clay.

Till The Future Dares Forget The Past, His Fate And Fame Shall Be An Echo And A Light Unto Eternity!