I Never Knew Any Man In My

Our Judgments, Like Our Watches, None Go Just Alike, Yet Each Believes His Own

Lo! The Poor Indian! Whose Untutor'd Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind; His Soul Proud Science Never Taught To Stray Far As The Solar Walk Or Milky Way.

Nothing Is More Certain Than Much Of The Force; As Well As Grace, Of Arguments Or Instructions Depends Their Conciseness.

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows.

Speed The Soft Intercourse From Soul To Soul, And Waft A Sigh From Indus To The Pole.