Peace is in the grave.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number- Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you Ye are many-they are few.
Teas, Where small talk dies in agonies.
I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.