The white flower of a blameless life.
I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.
Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.
Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
Arise, go forth, and conquer as of old.