I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.

Scenes Must Be Beautiful Which Daily View'd Please Daily, And Whose Novelty Survives Long Knowledge And The Scrutiny Of Years.

Man In Society Is Like A Flow'r, Blown In Its Native Bed. 'tis There Alone His Faculties Expanded In Full Bloom Shine Out, There Only Reach Their Proper Use.

Far Happier Are The Dead Methinks Than They Who Look For Death And Fear It Every Day.

Forgot The Blush That Virgin Fears Impart To Modest Cheeks, And Borrowed One From Art.

England, With All Thy Faults I Love Thee Still, My Country!