Like Following Life Through Creatures You Dissect,

She Went From Opera, Park, Assembly, Play, To Morning Walks, And Prayers Three Hours A Day. To Part Her Time 'twixt Reading And Bohea, To Muse, And Spill Her Solitary Tea, Or O'er Cold Coffee Trifle With The Spoon, Count The Slow Clock, And Dine Exact At Noon.

Wholesome Solitude, The Nurse Of Sense!

How Glowing Guilt Exalts The Keen Delight!

Awake, My St. John! Leave All Meaner Things To Low Ambition And The Pride Of Kings. Let Us (since Life Can Little More Supply Than Just To Look About Us, And To Die) Expatiate Free O'er All This Scene Of Man; A Mighty Maze! But Not Without A Plan.

Not Grace, Or Zeal, Love Only Was My Call, And If I Lose Thy Love, I Lose My All.