That land full surely hastens to its end
Where public sycophants in homage bend
The populace to flatter, and repeat
the doubled echoes of its loud conceit.
Lowly their attitude but high their aim,
They creep to eminence through paths of shame,
Till fixed securely in the seats of pow'r,
The dupes they flattered they at last devour.
- Ambrose Bierce (1842-1913)
There's something in the "parting hour,"
Will chill the warmest hearts,
Yet kindred, comrades, lovers, friends,
Are fated all to part;
But this I've seen --- and many a pang
Has pressed it on my mind---
The one that goes is happier
Than those he leaves behind.
- Edward Pollock (1823-1858)