The Eternal Not Ourselves That Makes For

Spare Me The Whispering, Crowded Room, The Friends Who Come And Gape And Go, The Ceremonious Air Of Gloom - All, Which Makes Death A Hideous Show.

The Eternal Not Ourselves That Makes For Righteousness.

What Shelter To Grow Ripe Is Ours? What Leisure To Grow Wise?

Saw Life Steadily And Saw It Whole.

They... Who Await. No Gifts From Chance, Have Conquered Fate.