Cavil You May, But Never Criticise.

On Cold December Fragrant Chaplets Blow, And Heavy Harvests Nod Beneath The Snow.

He Best Can Paint Them Who Shall Feel Them Most.

A Fly, A Grape-stone, Or A Hair Can Kill.

Heaven From All Creatures Hides The Book Of Fate.

One Self-approving Hour Whole Years Outweighs.