Dreading That Climax Of All Human Ills

There Is A Tear For All Who Die, A Mourner O'er The Humblest Grave.

Well, Well, The World Must Turn Upon Its Axis, And All Mankind Turn With It, Heads Or Tails, And Live And Die, Make Love And Pay Our Taxes, And As The Veering Winds Shift, Shift Our Sails.

I Awoke One Morning And Found Myself Famous.

The Light Of Love, The Purity Of Grace, The Mind, The Music Breathing From Her Face, The Heart Whose Softness Harmonised The Whole — And, Oh! That Eye Was In Itself A Soul!

I Die But First I Have Possessed, And Come What May, I Have Been Blessed.