My Care Is For Myself; Myself Am

But How Carve Way I' The Life That Lies Before, If Bent On Groaning Ever For The Past?

Look Not Down But Up!

Sorrow, The Heart Must Bear, Sits In The Home Of Each, Conspicuous There. Many A Circumstance, At Least, Touches The Very Breast. For Those Whom Any Sent Away,--he Knows: And In The Live Man's Stead, Armor And Ashes Reach The House Of Each.

But What If I Fail Of My Purpose Here? It Is But To Keep The Nerves At Strain, To Dry One's Eyes And Laugh At A Fall, And Baffled, Get Up And Begin Again.

To Me At Least Was Never Evening Yet, But Seemed Far Beautifuller Than Its Day.