Heaven, The Seat Of Bliss, Brooks Not

Mutual Love, The Crown Of All Our Bliss.

If All The World Should In A Pet Of Temp'rance, Feed On Pulse, Drink The Clear Stream, And Nothing Wear But Frieze, Th' All-giver Would Be Unthank'd, Would Be Unprais'd.

A Good Book Is The Precious Lifeblood Of A Master Spirit.

And Ever Against Eating Cares Lap Me In Soft Lydian Airs, Married To Immortal Verse

Time, Though In Eternity, Applied To Motion, Measures All Things Durable By Present, Past, And Future.