The Smaller Your Reality, The More Convinced

But Sad As Angels For The Good Man's Sin, Weep To Record, And Blush To Give It In.

Our Land, The First Garden Of Liberty's Tree-- It Has Been, And Shall Be, The Land Of The Free.

Oh, How Hard It Is To Find The One Just Suited To Our Mind!

The Prophet's Mantle, Ere His Flight Began, Dropt On The World--a Sacred Gift To Man.

Triumphal Arch, That Fill'st The Sky When Storms Prepare To Part, I Ask Not Proud Philosophy To Teach Me What Thou Art.