A world where nothing is had for nothing.

Action will furnish belief,-but will that belief be the true one? This is the point, you know.

Thou shalt not kill; but needst not strive officiously to keep alive.

Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle, Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with them?

In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, but westward, look, the land is bright.

It fortifies my soul to know That, though I perish, Truth is so: That, howsoe'er I stray and range, Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change. I steadier step when I recall That, if I slip Thou dost not fall.

My wind is turned to bitter north, That was so soft a south before; My sky, that shone so sunny bright, With foggy gloom is clouded o'er My gay green leaves are yellow-black, Upon the dank autumnal floor; For love, departed once, comes back No more again, no more.