What I Have Left Is From My

I Saw Myself The Lambent Easy Light Gild The Brown Horror, And Dispel The Night.

The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.

But 'tis The Talent Of Our English Nation, Still To Be Plotting Some New Reformation.

He Look'd In Years, Yet In His Years Were Seen A Youthful Vigor, And Autumnal Green.

Truth Is The Object Of Our Understanding, As Good Is Of Our Will; And The Understanding Can No More Be Delighted With A Lie Than The Will Can Choose An Apparent Evil.