Many Things I Knew, I Have Forgotten;

Time Deals Gently With Me; And Though I Feel That I Descend, The Slope Is Easy.

Young Gentlemen, Who Are To Display Their Knowledge To The World, Should Have Every Motive Of Emulation, Should Be Formed Into Regular Classes, Should Read And Dispute Together, Should Have All The Honors, And, If One May Say So, The Pomp Of Learning Set Before Them, To Call Up Their Ardor. It Is Their Business, And They Should Apply To It As Such.

And When Midst Fallen London, They Survey The Stone Where Alexander's Ashes Lay, Shall Own With Humbled Pride The Lesson Must By Time's Slow Finger Written In The Dust.

You, That Have Toiled During Youth, To Set Your Son Upon Higher Ground, And To Enable Him To Begin Where You Left Off, Do Not Expect That Son To Be What You Were, - Diligent, Modest, Active, Simple In His Tastes, Fertile In Resources. You Have Put Him Under Quite A Different Master. Poverty Educated You; Wealth Will Educate Him. You Cannot Suppose The Result Will Be The Same.

Forgotten Rimes, And College Themes, Worm-eaten Plans, And Embryo Schemes; A Mass Of Heterogeneous Matter. A Chaos Dark, Nor Land Nor Water.