Sad Is His Lot, Who, Once At

I Am The Fellow Citizen Of Every Being That Thinks; My Country Is Truth.

And When Night, Guiding Her Bright Train Of Stars, Throws O'er The Sleeping World Her Gloomy Veil, Lonely Amidst The Desert And The Darkness, Musing Upon The Night's Calm Majesty; Wrapt Up In Quietness, With Shade And Silence, My Soul More Closely Worshippeth Thy Presence; With An Internal Day I Feel Enlighten'd, And Hear A Voice, Which Biddeth Me To Hope.

Good Manners Require Space And Time.

But Nature Too, Shakes Off Her Sleep Today; By May's Mild Sun We See Reviv'd Her Frame, Around My Window Venus' Birds Proclaim, The Month Most Cherish'd Backwards Bends His Way!

Eternity Is So Certain And So Terrible That A Thousand Lives Would Not Suffice To Prepare For It.