Where Lives The Man That Has Not

In Prosperous Times I Have Sometimes Felt My Fancy And Powers Of Language Flag, But Adversity Is To Me At Least A Tonic And Bracer.

A Rusted Nail, Placed Near The Faithful Compass, Will Sway It From The Truth, And Wreck The Argosy.

Where Shall The Lover Rest, Whom The Fates Sever From His True Maiden's Breast, Parted For Ever? Where, Through Groves Deep And High, Sounds The Far Billow, Where Early Violets Die, Under The Willow.

My Dear, Be A Good Man Be Virtuous Be Religious Be A Good Man. Nothing Else Will Give You Any Comfort When You Come To Lie Here. ...god Bless You All.

The Man Who Is Deserving The Name Is The One Whose Thoughts And Exertions Are For Others Rather Than For Himself.