Execute Their Airy Purposes.

The Hungry Sheep Look Up, And Are Not Fed, But, Swoln With Wind, And The Rank Mist They Draw, Rot Inwardly, And Foul Contagion Spread: Besides What The Grim Wolf With Privy Paw Daily Devours Apace, And Nothing Said; But That Two-handed Engine At The Door Stands Ready To Smite Once, And Smite No More.

Innumerable As The Stars Of Night, Or Stars Of Morning, Dewdrops Which The Sun Impearls On Every Leaf And Every Flower.

In The Sweat Of Thy Face Thou Shalt Eat Bread, Till Thou Return Unto The Ground; For Thou Out Of The Ground Wast Taken; Know Thy Birth, For Dust Thou Art, And Shalt To Dust Return.

See Golden Days, Fruitful Of Golden Deeds, With Joy And Love Triumphing.

None Can Love Freedom Heartily, But Good Men; The Rest Love Not Freedom, But License.