Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently

Consult The Genius Of The Place In All.

Where'er You Walk Cool Gales Shall Fan The Glade, Trees Where You Sit Shall Crowd Into A Shade. Where'er You Tread The Blushing Flowers Shall Rise, And All Things Flourish Where You Turn Your Eyes.

To Be, Contents His Natural Desire, He Asks No Angel's Wing, No Seraph's Fire; But Thinks, Admitted To That Equal Sky, His Faithful Dog Shall Bear Him Company. Go Wiser Thou! And In Thy Scale Of Sense Weigh Thy Opinion Against Providence.

I Find Myself Hoping A Total End Of All The Unhappy Divisions Of Mankind By Party-spirit, Which At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

Wit In Conversation Is Only A Readiness Of Thought And A Facility Of Expression, Or A Quick Conception And An Easy Delivery.