Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.

Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.

Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.

The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.

Death is the quiet haven of us all.