There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be,- In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea, Or in the wide desert where no life is found.

Extremes meet', as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth.

How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!

Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold!

Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.

How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.

What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.