The Cut Worm Forgives The Plow.

Poetry Fettered Fetters The Human Race.

He Who Has Few Things To Desire Cannot Have Many To Fear.

O Autumn, Laden With Fruit, And Stained With The Blood Of The Grape, Pass Not, But Sit Beneath My Shady Roof; There Thou May'st Rest, And Tune Thy Jolly Voice To My Fresh Pipe; And All The Daughters Of The Year Shall Dance! Sing Now The Lusty Song Of Fruit And Flowers.

In Seed Time Learn, In Harvest Teach, In Winter Enjoy.

To See A World In A Grain Of Sand And A Heaven In A Wild Flower, Hold Infinity In The Palm Of Your Hand, And Eternity In An Hour.