So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
This is a test; this is only a test.
Trying an insert of HTML from iTunes. This is an "iMix" created by someone mourning the passing of radio station WHFS.
No comments:
Post a Comment