Day! Faster And More Fast. O'er Night's

We Mortals Cross The Ocean Of This World Each In His Average Cabin Of A Life; The Bests Not Big, The Worst Yields Elbowroom.

No! Let Me Taste The Whole Of It, Fare Like My Peers, The Heroes Of Old, Bear The Brunt, In A Minute Pay Glad Life's Arrears Of Pain, Darkness And Cold.

Over My Head His Arm He Flung, Against The World.

When Pain Ends, Gain Ends Too.

For Thence A Paradox Which Comforts While It Mocks, - Shall Life Succeed In That It Seems To Fail: What I Aspired To Be, And Was Not, Comforts Me: A Brute I Might Have Been, But Would Not Sink I' The Scale.