It Is A Beautiful Trait In The

The Air Is Full Of Farewells To The Dying. And Mournings For The Dead.

The Surest Pledge Of A Deathless Name Is The Silent Homage Of Thoughts Unspoken.

In The Long, Sleepless Watches Of The Night, A Gentle Face The Face Of One Long Dead Looks At Me From The Wall, Where Round Its Head The Night-lamp Casts A Halo Of Pale Light.

Then Read From The Treasured Volume The Poem Of Thy Choice, And Lend To The Rhyme Of The Poet The Beauty Of Thy Voice.

Great Men Stand Like Solitary Towers In The City Of God.