Age And Want Sit Smiling At The

A Mighty Maze! But Not Without A Plan.

Leave Not A Foot Of Verse, A Foot Of Stone, A Page, A Grave, That They Can Call Their Own; But Spread, My Sons, Your Glory Thin Or Thick, On Passive Paper, Or On Solid Brick.

Behold The Child, By Nature's Kindly Law Pleased With A Rattle, Tickled With A Straw.

Thus Unlamented Pass The Proud Away, The Gaze Of Fools And Pageant Of A Day; So Perish All, Whose Breast Ne'er Learn'd To Glow For Others' Good, Or Melt At Others' Woe.

Virtue Alone Is Happiness Below.