The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
In ourselves are triumph and defeat.
The Mormons make the marriage ring, like the ring of Saturn, fluid, not solid, and keep it in its place by numerous satellites.
No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
The day is done; and slowly from the scene the stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, and puts them back into his golden quiver!