O Loss Of Sight, Of Thee I

For What Is Glory But The Blaze Of Fame?

For Books Are As Meats And Viands Are; Some Of Good, Some Of Evil Sub-stance.

Now The Bright Morning-star, Day's Harbinger, Comes Dancing From The East, And Leads With Her The Flowery May, Who From Her Green Lap Throws The Yellow Cowslip And The Pale Primrose. Hail, Bounteous May, That Dost Inspire Mirth, And Youth, And Warm Desire! Woods And Groves Are Of Thy Dressing; Hill And Dale Doth Boast Thy Blessing. Thus We Salute Thee With Our Early Song, And Welcome Thee, And Wish Thee Long.

So Dear I Love Him, That With Him, All Deaths I Could Endure, Without Him, Live No Life.

Law Can Discover Sin, But Not Remove, Save By Those Shadowy Expiations Weak.