Man Is Unjust, But God Is Just;

And When The Echoes Had Ceased, Like A Sense Of Pain Was The Silence.

Death Is The Chillness That Precedes The Dawn; We Shudder For A Moment, Then Awake In The Broad Sunshine Of The Other Life.

The Day Is Cold, And Dark, And Dreary; It Rains, And The Wind Is Never Weary; The Vine Still Clings To The Mouldering Wall, But At Every Gust The Dead Leaves Fall, And The Day Is Dark And Dreary. My Life Is Cold, And Dark, And Dreary; It Rains, And The Wind Is Never Weary; My Thoughts Still Cling To The Mouldering Past, But The Hopes Of Youth Fall Thick In The Blast, And The Days Are Dark And Dreary. Be Still, Sad Heart! And Cease Repining; Behind The Clouds Is The Sun Still Shining; Thy Fate Is The Common Fate Of All, Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall, Some Days Must Be Dark And Dreary.

Sorrow And Silence Are Strong, And Patient Endurance Is Godlike.

Read From Some Humbler Poet, Whose Songs Gushed From His Heart, As Showers From The Clouds Of Summer, Or Tears From The Eyelids Start.