What ever is made of  loss
It is not the equal thereof-
Who would not excahange
Even immortal words to Un-
Know the broken heart that
Insired them. The shattered
Dreams that were as bread
That do not mend but break
Again to ptoclaim their cost
As waves do break upon the
Shore saying forget  me not
.

Still there comes a time when
All stands in ghostly equipose
The empty stage late at night
Tells the oldest tale of all that
There is a peace that abideth in
The soul.  As one lying upon the
Earth looking up sees in the night
Sky that it is good- that in the starry
Heavens there is a place where the
Heart can rest after all's been done