Sing, Riding 's A Joy! For Me

The Sad Rhyme Of The Men Who Proudly Clung To Their First Fault, And Withered In Their Pride.

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

Our Aspirations Are Our Responsibilities.

Escape Me? Never, Beloved! While I Am I, And You Are You.

Why Comes Temptation But For Man To Meet And Master And Make Crouch Beneath His Foot, And So Be Pedestaled In Triumph?