Those Who Would Make Us Feel Must

Those Who Would Make Us Feel Must Feel Themselves.

Fool Beckons Fool, And Dunce Awakens Dunce.

Little Do Such Men Know The Toil, The Pains, The Daily, Nightly Racking Of The Brains, To Range The Thoughts, The Matter To Digest, To Cull Fit Phrases, And Reject The Rest.

The More Haste, Ever The Worst Speed.

The Oak, When Living, Monarch Of The Wood; The English Oak, Which, Dead, Commands The Flood.