Sometime Let Gorgeous Tragedy In Sceptred Pall

Lifted Up So High I Disdained Subjection, And Thought One Step Higher Would Set Me Highest.

Who, As They Sung, Would Take The Prison'd Soul And Lap It In Elysium.

Cedar, And Pine, And Fir, And Branching Palm, A Sylvan Scene, And As The Ranks Ascend Shade Above Shade, A Woody Theatre Of Stateliest View.

O Welcome Pure-eyed Faith, White Handed Hope, Thou Hovering Angel Girt With Golden Wings.

Death To Life Is Crown Or Shame.