Learning Is Better Worth Than Houses Or

Better To Love Amiss Than Nothing To Have Loved.

Say, Ye Oppress'd By Some Fantastic Woes, Some Jarring Nerve That Baffles Your Repose; Who Press The Downy Couch, While Slaves Advance With Timid Eye, To Read The Distant Glance; Who With Sad Prayers The Weary Doctor Tease, To Name The Nameless Ever-new Disease; Who With Mock Patience Dire Complaints Endure, Which Real Pain And That Alone Can Cure; How Would Ye Bear In Real Pain To Lie, Despised, Neglected, Left Alone To Die? How Would Ye Bear To Draw Your Latest Breath, Where All That's Wretched Paves The Way For Death?

Circles In Water As They Wider Flow The Less Conspicuous In Their Progress Grow, And When At Last They Trench Upon The Shore, Distinction Ceases And They're View'd No More.

Hence, In These Times, Untouch'd The Pages Lie, And Slumber Out Their Immortality.

't Was Good Advice, And Meant, My Son, Be Good.