My Care Is For Myself; Myself Am

Strike When Thou Wilt, The Hour Of Rest, But Let My Last Days Be My Best.

Autumn Wins You Best By This Its Mute Appeal To Sympathy For Its Decay.

O Never Star Was Lost; Here We All Aspire To Heaven And There Is Heaven Above Us. If I Stoop Into A Dark Tremendous Sea Of Cloud, It Is But For A Time; I Press God's Lamp Close To My Breast; Its Splendor Soon Or Late Will Pierce The Gloom. I Shall Emerge Some Day.

Thou Art My Single Day, God Lends To Leaven What Were All Earth Else, With A Feel Of Heaven.

Fair Or Foul The Lot Apportioned Life On Earth, We Bear Alike.