Push on,--keep moving.

Who dainties love shall beggars prove.

All that's bright must fade,-- The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.

How calm, how beautiful comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone! When warring winds have died away, And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, Melt off, and leave the land and sea Sleeping in bright tranquillity.

To live with them is far less sweet, Than to remember thee!

A man perfect to the finger tips.