Solitude Is Sometimes Best Society.

A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Call'd The Paradise Of Fools To Few Unknown.

Hope Allows Us To Bid Farewell To Fear.

The Spirit Of Man, Which God Inspired, Cannot Together Perish With This Corporeal Clod.

Leaves Have Their Time To Fall, And Flowers To Wither At The North - Wind's Breath, And Stars To Set; But All, Thou Hast All Seasons For Thine Own, O Death!

Such Sights As Youthful Poets Dream On Summer Eves By Haunted Stream. Then To The Well-trod Stage Anon, If Jonson's Learned Sock Be On, Or Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's Child, Warble His Native Wood-notes Wild.