I Can Say With Sincerity That I

A Person Who Has Not Done One Half His Day's Work By Ten O Clock, Runs A Chance Of Leaving The Other Half Undone.

Worthless As Wither'd Weeds.

There Is Not Room For Death, Nor Atom That His Might Could Render Void: Thou - Thou Art Being And Breath, And What Thou Art May Never Be Destroyed.

Oh, For The Time When I Shall Sleep Without Identity.

And From The Midst Of Cheerless Gloom I Passed To Bright Unclouded Day.