He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that. T is an ill cure For lifes worst ills, to have no time to feel them. Where sorrow s held intrusive and turned out, There wisdom will not enter, nor true power, Nor aught that dignifies humanity.
We figure to ourselves The thing we like; and then we build it up, As chance will have it, on the rock or sand, For thought is tired of wandering oer the world, And homebound Fancy runs her bark ashore.
Such souls, Whose sudden visitations daze the world, Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind A voice that in the distance far away Wakens the slumbering ages.
The Constitution devotes the national domain to union, to justice, to defence, to welfare and to liberty. But there is a higher law than the Constitution.