Seldom Comes Glory Till A Man Be

Wealth Cannot Make A Life, But Love.

Conquer We Shall, But, We Must First Contend! It's Not The Fight That Crowns Us, But The End.

When The Artless Doctor Sees No One Hope, But Of His Fees, And His Skill Runs On The Lees; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me! When His Potion And His Pill, Has, Or None, Or Little Skill, Meet For Nothing, But To Kill; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

Welcome, Maids Of Honor, You Doe Bring In The Spring, And Wait Upon Her.

Next, When I Cast Mine Eyes And See That Brave Vibration Each Way Free, O How That Glittering Taketh Me!