The Man Who Is Deserving The Name

The Lover's Pleasure, Like That Of The Hunter, Is In The Chase, And The Brightest Beauty Loses Half Its Merit, As The Flower Its Perfume, When The Willing Hand Can Reach It Too Easily. There Must Be Doubt; There Must Be Difficulty And Danger.

Then Hush Thee, My Darling, Take Rest While You May, For Strife Comes With Manhood, And Waking With Day.

In That Pleasant District Of Merry England Which Is Watered By The River Don, There Extended In Ancient Times A Large Forest, Covering The Greater Part Of The Beautiful Hills And Valleys Which Lie Between Sheffield And The Pleasant Town Of Doncaster.

Where, Where Was Roderick Then? One Blast Upon His Bugle Horn Were Worth A Thousand Men.

Is Death The Last Sleep? No, It Is The Last And Final Awakening.