By Education Most Have Been Misled.

Present Joys Are More To Flesh And Blood Than A Dull Prospect Of A Distant Good.

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

None Would Live Past Years Again, Yet All Hope Pleasure In What Yet Remain; And, From The Dregs Of Life, Think To Receive, What The First Sprightly Running Could Not Give.

Wit Will Shine Through The Harsh Cadence Of A Rugged Line.

War Is A Trade Of Kings.