Where'er A Noble Deed Is Wrought, Where'er

For The Structure That We Raise, Time Is With Materials Filled; Our To-days And Yesterdays Are The Blocks With Which We Build.

It Is Autumn; Not Without But Within Me Is The Cold. Youth And Spring Are All About; It Is I That Have Grown Old.

Thou Shalt Learn The Wisdom Early To Discern True Beauty In Utility.

O Suffering, Sad Humanity! O Ye Afflicted Ones, Who Lie Steeped To The Lips In Misery, Longing, Yet Afraid To Die, Patient, Though Sorely Tried!

Not Chance Of Birth Or Place Has Made Us Friends, Being Oftentimes Of Different Tongues And Nations, But The Endeavor For The Selfsame Ends, With The Same Hopes, And Fears, And Aspirations.