The Bud May Have A Bitter Taste,

We Bear Our Shades About Us; Self-deprived Of Other Screen, The Thin Umbrella Spread, And Range An Indian Waste Without A Tree.

The Cares Of Today Are Seldom Those Of Tomorrow.

In A Fleshly Tomb, I Am Buried Above Ground.

Lights Of The World, And Stars Of Human Race.

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.i Must Finish My Journey Alone,never Hear The Sweet Music Of Speech;i Start At The Sound Of My Own.