"O may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence. . . . . . feed pure love, Beget the smiles that have no cruelty, Be the sweet presence of a good diffused And in diffusion evermore intense. So shall I join the choir invisible Whose music is the gladness of the world." THE middle of a fragrant afternoon of May in the green wilderness of Kentucky: the year 1795.…
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