For As Nightingales Do Upon Glow-worms Feed,

Poets Are All Who Love, Who Feel Great Truths, And Tell Them; And The Truth Of Truths Is Love.

And These Are Joys, Like Beauty, But Skin Deep.

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.

Hell Is The Wrath Of God--his Hate Of Sin.

Kindness Is Wisdom. There Is None In Life But Needs It And May Learn.