Life Is As Serious A Thing As

We Love And Live In Power; It Is The Spirit's End. Mind Must Subdue; To Conquer Is Its Life.

For Ivy Climbs The Crumbling Hall To Decorate Decay.

Music Lives Within Thy Lips Like A Nightingale In Roses.

The Wind Breathes Not, And The Wave Walks Softly As Above A Grave.

Love Spends His All, And Still Hath Store.