I Lisp'd In Numbers, For The Numbers

In This Commonplace World Every One Is Said To Be Romantic Who Either Admires A Fine Thing Or Does One.

If I Am Right, Thy Grace Impart Still In The Right To Stay; If I Am Wrong, O, Teach My Heart To Find That Better Way!

Nay, Fly To Altars; There They'll Talk You Dead; For Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread.

Let Opening Roses Knotted Oaks Adorn, And Liquid Amber Drop From Every Thorn.

There Never Was Any Party, Faction, Sect, Or Cabal Whatsoever, In Which The Most Ignorant Were Not The Most Violent; For A Bee Is Not A Busier Animal Than A Blockhead.