Eloquence Is The Poetry Of Prose.

Sustained And Soothed By An Unfaltering Trust, Approach Thy Grave, Like One Who Wraps The Drapery Of His Couch About Him, And Lies Down To Pleasant Dreams.

Beautiful Isles! Beneath The Sunset Skies Tall, Silver-shafted Palm-trees Rise, Between Full Orange-trees That Shade The Living Colonade.

Virtue Cannot Dwell With Slaves, Nor Reign O'er Those Who Cower To Take A Tyrant's Yoke.

The Hushed Winds Their Sabbath Keep.

Yet Will That Beauteous Image Make The Dreary Sea Less Drear And Thy Remembered Smile Will Wake The Hope That Tramples Fear