Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting...
Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is pass'd away.
With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony.
What though the radiance that was once so bright, be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
All that we behold is full of blessings.