Far From The Madding Crowd's Ignoble Strife.

The Still Small Voice Of Gratitude.

I Shall Be But A Shrimp Of An Author.

Far From The Madding Crowd's Ignoble Strife Their Sober Wishes Never Learn'd To Stray; Along The Cool Sequester'd Vale Of Life They Kept The Noiseless Tenor Of Their Way.

From Toil He Wins His Spirits Light, From Busy Day The Peaceful Night; Rich, From The Very Want Of Wealth, In Heaven's Best Treasures, Peace And Health.

As To Posterity, I May Ask What Has It Ever Done To Oblige Me?