The Grandeur Of The Dooms We Have

Four Seasons Fill The Measure Of The Year; There Are Four Seasons In The Minds Of Men.

... For, By All The Stars That Tend Thy Bidding, I Do Think The Bars That Kept My Spirit In Are Burst - That I Am Sailing With Thee Through The Dizzy Sky! How Beautiful Thou Art!

Is There Another Life? Shall I Awake And Find All This A Dream? There Must Be We Cannot Be Created For This Sort Of Suffering.

In The Long Vista Of The Years To Roll,\ Let Me Not See My Country's Honor Fade;\ Oh! Let Me See Our Land Retain Its Soul!\ Her Pride In Freedom, And Not Freedom's Shade.

O, Sorrow! Why Dost Borrow Heart's Lightness From The Merriment Of May?