I Am Not Now That Which I

This Quiet Sail Is As A Noiseless Wing To Waft Me From Distraction.

My Native Land, Good Night!

Father Of Light! Great God Of Heaven! Hear'st Thou The Accents Of Despair? Can Guilt Like Man's Be E'er Forgiven? Can Vice Atone For Crimes By Prayer.

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods, There Is Rapture In The Lonely Shore, There Is Society Where None Intrudes, By The Deep Sea, And Music In Its Roar; I Love Not Man The Less, But Nature More.

It Is Not For Minds Like Ours To Give Or To Receive Flatter; Yet The Praises Of Sincerity Have Ever Been Permitted To The Voice Of Friendship