We are the voices of the wandering wind, Which moan for rest and rest can never find; Lo! as the wind is so is mortal life, A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife.

Life, which all creatures love and strive to keep Wonderful, dear and pleasant unto each, Even to the meanest; yea, a boon to all Where pity is, for pity makes the world Soft to the weak and noble for the strong.

Sleep - Death without dying - living, but not life.

For death, Now I know, is that first breath Which our souls draw when we enter Life, which is of all life center

Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, Or any searcher know by mortal mind? Veil after veil will lift -but here must be Veil upon veil behind

Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!