Men Of England! Who Inheritrights That Cost

For Beauty's Tears Are Lovelier Than Her Smile.

On Linden, When The Sun Was Low, All Bloodless Lay The Untrodden Snow, And Dark As Winter Was The Flow Of Iser, Rolling Rapidly.

But Sad As Angels For The Good Man's Sin, Weep To Record, And Blush To Give It In.

What Though My Winged Hours Of Bliss Have Been, Like Angel Visits, Few And Far Between.

A Stoic Of The Woods,--a Man Without A Tear.