AND when I am entombèd in my place, <br />Be it remembered of a single man, <br />He never, though he dearly loved his race, <br />For fear of human eyes swerved from his plan. <br />OH what is Heaven but the fellowship <br />Of minds that each can stand against the world <br />By its own meek and incorruptible will? <br />THE days pass over me <br />And I am still the same; <br />The aroma of my life is gone <br />With the flower with which it came.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poems-61/
