Is This Is A Dream? O, If

The Market-place, The Eager Love Of Gain, Whose Aim Is Vanity, And Whose End Is Pain!

It Is Autumn; Not Without But Within Me Is The Cold. Youth And Spring Are All About; It Is I That Have Grown Old.

Day Of The Lord, As All Our Days Should Be!

By The Shores Of Gitchee Gumee, By The Shining Big-sea-water, Stood The Wigwam Of Nokomis, Daughter Of The Moon, Nokomis, Dark Behind It Rose The Forest, Rose The Black And Gloomy Pine-trees, Rose The Firs With Cones Upon Them; Bright Before It Beat The Water, Beat The Clear And Sunny Water, Beat The Shining Big-sea-water.

Day, Like A Weary Pilgrim, Had Reached The Western Gate Of Heaven, And Evening Stooped Down To Unloose The Latchets Of His Sandal Shoon.