Practice Typing

We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep. We rise; one wandring thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep, Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same. for, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free. Mans yesterday may neer be like his morrow; Nought may endure but mutability.