Suit The Action To The Word, The

What Should Such Fellows As I Do Crawling Between Earth And Heaven?

I Am But Mad North-north-west. When The Wind Is Southerly, I Know A Hawk From A Handsaw.

O, Had I But Followed The Arts!

Will You Walk Out Of The Air, My Lord? Hamlet Into My Grave.

And This, Our Life, Exempt From Public Haunt, Finds Tongues In Trees, Books In The Running Brooks, Sermons In Stones, And Good In Everything.