The Fireflies O'er The Meadow In Pulses

What Men Call Luck Is The Prerogative Of Valiant Souls, The Fealty Life Pays Its Rightful Kings.

The Green Grass Floweth Like A Stream Into The Oceans's Blue.

Then To Side With Truth Is Noble When We Share Her Wretched Crust, Ere Her Cause Bring Fame And Profit, And 't Is Prosperous To Be Just; Then It Is The Brave Man Chooses, While The Coward Stands Aside, Doubting In His Abject Spirit, Till His Lord Is Crucified.

They Enslave Their Children's Children Who Make Compromise With Sin.

Solitude Is As Needful To The Imagination As Society Is Wholesome For The Character.