The Dead are like the stars by day; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky.
James MontgomeryThere is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.
James MontgomeryTo-morrow — oh, 'twill never be, If we should live a thousand years! Our time is all to-day, to-day, The same, though changed; and while it flies With still small voice the moments say: "To-day, to-day, be wise, be wise.
James Montgomery