Desire Of Having Is The Sin Of

The Force Of His Own Merit Makes His Way-a Gift That Heaven Gives For Him.

His Life Was Gentle; And The Elements So Mixed In Him, That Nature Might Stand Up And Say To All The World, This Was A Man!

To Beguile The Time, Look Like The Time.

I Would That I Were Low Laid In My Grave. I Am Not Worth This Coil That's Made For Me.

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.