For life, good youth, hath never an ill Which hope cannot scatter, and faith cannot kill; And stubborn realities never shall bind The free-spreading wings of a cheerful mind.

Never give up! it is wiser and better Always to hope, than once to despair.

Who shall guess what I may be? Who can tell my fortune to me? For, bravest and brightest that ever was sung May be-and shall be-the lot of the young!

I am not old,-I cannot be old, Though threescore years and ten Have wasted away, like a tale that is told.