The Doubtful Beam Long Nods From Side

But Honest Instinct Comes A Volunteer; Sure Never To O'er-shoot, But Just To Hit, While Still Too Wide Or Short In Human Wit.

Behold The Groves That Shine With Silver Frost, Their Beauty Withered, And Their Verdure Lost!

Of All The Causes Which Conspire To Blind Man's Erring Judgement, And Misguide The Mind, What The Weak Head With Strongest Bias Rules, Is Pride, The Never-failing Vice Of Fools.

To Wake The Soul By Tender Strokes Of Art, To Raise The Genius, And To Mend The Heart

And Make Each Day A Critic On The Last.