Haste Is Needful In A Desperate Case.

This Tyrant, Whose Sole Name Blisters Our Tongues,was Once Thought Honest.

O Jest Unseen, Inscrutable, Invisible, As A Nose On A Man's Face, Or A Weathercock On A Steeple.

There's No More Faith In Thee Than In A Stewed Prune.

I Know A Place Where The Wild Thyme Blows, Where Oxlips And The Nodding Violet Grows.

How Quickly Nature Falls Into Revolt When Gold Becomes Her Object! For This The Foolish Over-careful Fathers Have Broke Their Sleep With Thoughts, Their Brains With Care, Their Bones With Industry.