Men Must Be Taught As If You

Speed The Soft Intercourse From Soul To Soul, And Waft A Sigh From Indus To The Pole.

The Approach Of Night The Skies Yet Blushing With Departing Light, When Falling Dews With Spangles Deck'd The Glade, And The Low Sun Had Lengthen'd Ev'ry Shade.

To Observations Which Ourselves We Make, We Grow More Partial For Th' Observer's Sake.

The Bookful Blockhead, Ignorantly Read With Loads Of Learned Lumber In His Head.

The Spider's Touch, How Exquisitely Fine! Feels At Each Thread, And Lives Along The Line.