Before, I Loved Thee As A Brother,

So All My Best Is Dressing Old Words New.

Look What Thy Soul Holds Dear, Imagine It To Lie That Way Thou Goest, Not Whence Thou Com'st. Suppose The Singing Birds Musicians, The Grass Whereon Thou Tread'st The Presence Strewed, The Flowers Fair Ladies, And Thy Steps No More Than A Delight Measure Or A Dance; For Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.

Give Them Great Meals Of Beef And Iron And Steel, They Will Eat Like Wolves And Fight Like Devils.

What Thing, In Honor, Had My Father Lost, That Need To Be Revived And Breathed In Me?

And Send Him Many Years Of Sunshine Days!