Folly Ends Where Genuine Hope Begins.

All Zeal For A Reform, That Gives Offence To Peace And Charity, Is Mere Pretence.

Tis Pleasant, Through The Loopholes Of Retreat, To Peep At Such A World; To See The Stir Of The Great Babel, And Not Feel The Crowd.

All We Behold Is Miracle.

Be It A Weakness, It Deserves Some Praise, We Love The Play-place Of Our Early Days; The Scene Is Touching, And The Heart Is Stone, That Feels Not At That Sight, And Feels At None.

What Is It But A Map Of Busy Life, Its Fluctuations, And Its Vast Concerns?