One has often wondered whether upon the whole earth there is anything so unintelligent, so unapt to perceive how the world is really going, as an ord… - Matthew Arnold

And amongst us one, Who most has suffer’d, takes dejectedly His seat upon the intellectual throne.

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.

Yes, thou art gone! and round me too the night In ever-nearing circle weaves her shade. I see her veil draw soft across the day, I feel her slowly chilling breath invade The cheek grown thin, the brown hair sprent with grey; I feel her finger light Laid pausefully upon life’s headlong train; — The foot less prompt to meet the morning dew, The heart less bounding at emotion new, And hope, once crush’d, less quick to spring again.