A Very Ancient And Fish-like Smell.

We Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars; As If We Were Villians By Compulsion.

There's Husbandry In Heaven; Their Candles Are All Out.

Nature Hath Meal And Bran, Contempt And Grace.

True Hope Is Swift, And Flies With Swallow's Wings.

God Shall Be My Hope, My Stay, My Guide And Lantern To My Feet.