What I Aspired To Be And Was

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

How He Lies In His Rights Of A Man! Death Has Done All Death Can. And Absorbed In The New Life He Leads, He Recks Not, He Heeds Nor His Wrong Nor My Vengeance; Both Strike On His Senses Alike, And Are Lost In The Solemn And Strange Surprise Of The Change.

Lofty Designs Must Close In Like Effects.

Most Progress Is Most Failure.

No Work Begun Shall Ever Pause For Death.