But Were There Ever Any Writhed Not

To Stay Youthful, Stay Useful.

The Days Of Peace And Slumberous Calm Are Fled.

So, When Dark Thoughts My Boding Spirit Shroud, Sweet Hope! Celestial Influence Round Me Shed Waving Thy Silver Pinions O'er My Head.

What Is There In Thee, Moon! That Thou Should'st Move My Heart So Potently?

Call The World If You Please "the Vale Of Soul-making." Then You Will Find Out The Use Of The World.