The Book of Books Within this ample volume lies The mystery of mysteries. Happiest they of human race To whom their God has given grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, to force the way; But better had they ne'er been born That read to doubt or read to scorn.

Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er.

What I have to say is far more important than how long my eyelashes are.

What skilful limner e'er would choose To paint the rainbow's varying hues, Unless to mortal it were given To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?

Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.

A sound head, an honest heart, and an humble spirit are the three best guides through time and to eternity.

The sickening pang of hope deferr'd.