The windows of my soul I throw

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!

Press bravely onward! — not in vain Your generous trust in human kind; The good which bloodshed could not gain Your peaceful zeal shall find.

O, brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.

What is good looking, as Horace Smith remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,—generous in your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you; and, my word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration.

Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said.

When faith is lost, when honor dies The man is dead!