Let Not His Mode Of Raising Cash

Above Or Love, Hope, Hate Or Fear, It Lives All Passionless And Pure: An Age Shall Fleet Like Earthly Year; Its Years In Moments Shall Endure. Away, Away, Without A Wing, O'er All, Through All, Its Thought Shall Fly; A Nameless And Eternal Thing, Forgetting What It Was To Die.

A Mighty Mass Of Brick, And Smoke, And Shipping, Dirty And Dusty, But As Wide As Eye Could Reach, With Here And There A Sail Just Skipping In Sight, Then Lost Amidst The Forestry Of Masts; A Wilderness Of Steeples Peeping On Tiptoe Through Their Sea-coal Canopy; A Huge, Dun Cupola, Like A Fools-cap Crown On A Fool's Head - And There Is London Town.

Oh, Christ! It Is A Goodly Sight To See What Heaven Hath Done For This Delicious Land!

I Die But First I Have Possessed, And Come What May, I Have Been Blessed.

Yet Truth Will Sometimes Lend Her Noblest Fires, And Decorate The Verse Herself Inspires: This Fact, In Virtue's Name, Let Crabbe Attest,- Though Nature's Sternest Painter, Yet The Best.