And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to It for help --for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I."

The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.

There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.

"Living Life Tomorrow's fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again."

"Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend."