When faith is lost, when honor dies The man is dead! - John Greenleaf Whittier

The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.

Sweeter than any sung
My songs that found no tongue;
Nobler than any fact
My wish that failed of act. Others shall sing the song,
Others shall right the wrong,—
Finish what I begin,
And all I fail of win.

Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time,
So "Bonnie Doon" but tarry;
Blot out the epic’s stately rhyme,
But spare his "Highland Mary!"