Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.

That which we are, we are.

Faith lives in honest doubt.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver.

There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.

I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.