The Smaller Your Reality, The More Convinced

He Scorn'd His Own, Who Felt Another's Woe.

Truth Ever Lovely - Since The World Began, The Foe Of Tyrants, And The Friend Of Man.

On The Green Banks Of Shannon, When Sheelah Was Nigh, No Blithe Irish Lad Was So Happy As I, No Harp Like My Own Could So Cheerily Play, And Wherever I Went Was My Poor Dog Tray.

For There No Yew Nor Cypress Spread Their Glom But Roses Blossom'd Each Rustic Tomb.

One Moment May With Bliss Repay Unnumbered Hours Of Pain.