Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more.

With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.

What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.