It Is The End That Crowns Us,

Let My Muse Fail Of Thy Former Helps, And Only Use Her Inadulterate Strength. What's Done By Me Hereafter Shall Smell Of The Lamp, Not Thee.

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.

Fair Daffodils, We Weep To See You Haste Away So Soon: As Yet The Early-rising Sun Has Not Attained His Noon.

When The Artless Doctor Sees No One Hope, But Of His Fees, And His Skill Runs On The Lees; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me! When His Potion And His Pill, Has, Or None, Or Little Skill, Meet For Nothing, But To Kill; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

Buying, Possessing, Accumulating--this Is Not Worldliness. But Doing This In The Love Of It, With No Love Of God Paramount--doing It So That Thoughts Of Eternity And God Are An Intrusion--doing It So That One's Spirit Is Secularized In The Process; This Is Worldliness.