If I Don't Write To Empty My

A Schoolboy's Tale, The Wonder Of An Hour!

I Am Surrounded Here By Parsons And Methodists, But As You Will See, Not Infested With The Mania.

Be Warm, Be Pure, Be Amorous, But Be Chaste.

I Love Not Man The Less, But Nature More.

Oh! Snatched Away In Beauty's Bloom, On Thee Shall Press No Ponderous Tomb; But On Thy Turf Shall Roses Rear Their Leaves, The Earliest Of The Year.