Nobody owns anything but everyone is rich — for what greater wealth can there be than cheerfulness, peace of mind, and freedom from anxiety?

Oft in the stilly night, Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me; The words of love then spoken; The cheerful hearts now broken.

Oft, in the stilly night,

Oh! ever thus, from childhood’s hour,

Oh! ever thus, from childhood’s hour, I’ve seen my fondest hope decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But ’twas the first to fade away. I never nurs’d a dear gazelle To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die.

Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonor’d his relics are laid.

See, the conquering hero comes!

See, the conquering hero comes! Sound the trumpet, beat the drums! 1

Some banquet hall deserted, And all but he departed.