Still Ending, And Beginning Still.

As Creeping Ivy Clings To Wood Or Stone, And Hides The Ruin That It Feeds Upon, So Sophistry, Cleaves Close To, And Protects Sin's Rotten Trunk, Concealing Its Defects.

England With All Thy Faults, I Love Thee Still-- My Country! And, While Yet A Nook Is Left Where English Minds And Manners May Be Found, Shall Be Constrained To Love Thee.

Gardening Imparts An Organic Perspective On The Passage Of Time.

Defend Me, Therefore, Common Sense, Say From Reveries So Airy, From The Toil Of Dropping Buckets Into Empty Wells, And Growing Old In Drawing Nothing Up.

Blest Be The Art That Can Immortalize.