A Fav'rite Has No Friend!

Sweet Is The Breath Of Vernal Shower,/ The Bee's Collected Treasure Sweet,/ Sweet Music's Melting Fall, But Sweeter Yet/ The Still Small Voice Of Gratitude.

Ye Towers Of Julius, London's Lasting Shame, With Many A Foul And Midnight Murder Fed.

He Pass'd The Flaming Bounds Of Place And Time: The Living Throne, The Sapphire Blaze, Where Angels Tremble While They Gaze, He Saw; But Blasted With Excess Of Light, Closed His Eyes In Endless Night.

Chill Penury Repress'd Their Noble Rage, And Froze The Genial Current Of The Soul.

Far From The Madding Crowd's Ignoble Strife Their Sober Wishes Never Learn'd To Stray; Along The Cool Sequester'd Vale Of Life They Kept The Noiseless Tenor Of Their Way.