Scatter Plenty O'er A Smiling Land.

How Low, How Little Are The Proud, How Indigent The Great!

E'en From The Tomb The Voice Of Nature Cries, E'en In Our Ashes Live Their Wonted Fires.

They Hear A Voice In Every Wind, And Snatch A Fearful Joy.

Where Ignorance Is Bliss, 'tis Folly To Be Wise.

From Helicon's Harmonious Springs A Thousand Rills Their Mazy Progress Take.