That Truth Should Be Silent I Had

His Steeds To Water At Those Springs On Chaliced Flowers That Lies; And Winking Mary-buds Begin To Ope Their Golden Eyes: With Every Thing That Pretty Is, My Lady Sweet, Arise.

These Earthly Godfathers Of Heaven's Lights, That Give A Name To Every Fixed Star, Have No More Profit Of Their Shining Nights Than Those That Walk And Know Not What They Are.

But I Am Constant As The Northern Star, Of Whose True Fixed And Resting Quality There Is No Fellow In The Firmament.

The Brightness Of Her Cheek Would Shame Those Stars As Daylight Doth A Lamp; Her Eyes In Heaven Would Through The Airy Region Stream So Bright That Birds Would Sing, And Think It Were Not Night.

From This Day Forward Until The End Of The World...we In It Shall Be Remembered...we Band Of Brothers.