Literature Is A Great Staff, But A

Woe To The Youth Whom Fancy Gains, Winning From Reason's Hand The Reins, Pity And Woe! For Such A Mind Is Soft Contemplative, And Kind.

Ridicule Often Checks What Is Absurd, And Fully As Often Smothers That Which Is Noble.

A Few Drops Sprinkled On The Torch Of Love Make The Flame Blaze The Brighter.

Breathes There The Man With Soul So Dead, Who Never To Himself Hath Said, This Is My Own, My Native Land.

For Love Is Heaven And Heaven Is Love.