Today is the blocks with which we build.

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.

Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest.

Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees it close.

Then read from the treasured volume the poem of thy choice, and lend to the rhyme of the poet the beauty of thy voice.

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, Leads by the hand her little child to bed, Half willing, half reluctant to be led, And leave his broken playthings on the floor. Still gazing at them through the open door, Nor wholly reassured and comforted By promises of others in their stead Which, the more splendid, may not please him more; So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest so gently, that we go Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, Being too full of sleep to understand How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where.