Glory Be To God For Dappled Things.

Lovely The Woods, Waters, Meadows, Combes, Vales, All The Air Things Wear That Build This World Of Wales.

By The By, If The English Race Had Done Nothing Else, Yet If They Left The World The Notion Of A Gentleman, They Would Have Done A Great Service To Mankind.

It Kills Me To Be Time's Eunuch And Never To Beget.

And Though We Do Have Him Before Our Eyes, Masked In The Sacred Host, At Mass And Benediction And Within Our Lips Receive Him At Communion, Yet To Hear Of Him And Dwell On The Thought Of Him Will Do Us Good.

O The Mind, Mind Has Mountains; Cliffs Of Fall Frightful, Sheer, No-man-fathomed. Hold Them Cheap May Who Ne'er Hung There. Nor Does Long Our Small Durance Deal With That Steep Or Deep.