And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.

We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.

The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.

Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.

Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.

Here must thou be, O man, Strength to thyself - no helper hast thou here - Here keepest thou thy individual state: No other can divide with thee this work, No secondary hand can intervene To fashion this ability. 'Tis thine, The prime and vital principle is thine In the recesses of thy nature, far From any reach of outward fellowship, Else 'tis not thine at all.

Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.