Thus Aged Men, Full Loth And Slow,

Where Shall The Lover Rest, Whom The Fates Sever From His True Maiden's Breast, Parted For Ever? Where, Through Groves Deep And High, Sounds The Far Billow, Where Early Violets Die, Under The Willow.

The Willow Which Bends To The Tempest Often Escapes Better Than The Oak Which Resists It.

Sleep In Peace, And Wake In Joy.

That Day Of Wrath, That Dreadful Day. When Heaven And Earth Shall Pass Away.

Within That Awful Volume Lies The Mystery Of Mysteries!