Look At A Gown Of Gold, And

As Hope And Fear Alternate Chase Our Course Through Life's Uncertain Race.

O Woman! In Our Hours Of Ease Uncertain, Coy, And Hard To Please, And Variable As The Shade By The Light Quivering Aspen Made; When Pain And Anguish Wring The Brow, A Ministering Angel Thou!

But Search The Land Of Living Men, Where Wilt Thou Find Their Like Again?

Warriors! And Where Are Warriors Found, If Not On Martial Britain's Ground? And Who, When Waked With Note Of Fire, Love More Than They The British Lyre?

And Better Had They Ne'er Been Born, Who Read To Doubt, Or Read To Scorn.