Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's next best gift, To that of life and an immortal soul!
For life is but a dream whose shapes return, some frequently, some seldom, some by night and some by day.
The world rolls round forever like a mill; it grinds out death and life and good and ill; it has no purpose, heart or mind or will.
Statues and pictures and verse may be grand, But they are not the Life for which they stand.