XLIV.
God is a liberal lender
To those who use,
But not abuse,
And daily statements render;
And here's the beauty of it--
He lends again the profit!
XLV.
Days of heroic will
Which God and duty fill,
Are evermore sublime
Memorials of Time.
That such thy days may be
Is my best wish for thee.
XLVI.
Self-sacrifice
Finds Paradise;
Hearts that rebel
Are gates of Hell.
Goals of all races
Are these two places.
XLVII.
The blushes of roses
And all that reposes
Sublime in a hero
Affixed by his zero--
Ah, you will complete him,
As soon as you meet him.
XLVIII.
Maidens passing into naught,
What a work by them is wrought!
Not prefixes,
But affixes
On the better side of men--
See! they multiply by ten.