The Greater I Am, The Greater Shall

And Tears Are Heard Within The Harp I Touch.

My Flowery And Green Age Was Passing Away, And I Feeling A Chill In The Fires Had Been Wasting My Heart, For I Was Drawing Near The Hillside Above The Grave.

I Have Taken Pride In Others, Never In Myself.

I Looked Back At The Summit Of The Mountain, Which Seemed But A Cubit High In Comparison With The Height Of Human Contemplation, Were In Not Too Often Merged In The Corruptions Of The Earth.

Nothing Mortal Is Enduring, And There Is Nothing Sweet Which Does Not Presently End In Bitterness.