The Game Is Never Lost Till Won.

Circles In Water As They Wider Flow The Less Conspicuous In Their Progress Grow, And When At Last They Trench Upon The Shore, Distinction Ceases And They're View'd No More.

Against Her Foes Religion Well Defends Her Sacred Truths, But Often Fears Her Friends.

All Green Was Anished Sae Of Pine And Yew, That Still Displayed Their Melancholy Hue; Sae The Green Holly With Its Berries Red, And The Green Moss That O'er The Grael Spread.

In This Wild World The Fondest And The Best Are The Most Tried, Most Troubled And Distress'd.

To Every Class We Have A School Assign'd, Rules For All Ranks, And Food For Every Mind: Yet One There Is, That Small Regard To Rule Or Study Pays, And Still Is Deem'd A School; That, Where A Deaf, Poor, Patient Widow Sits, And Awes Some Thirty Infants As She Knits; Infants Of Humble, Busy Wives, Who Pay Some Trifling Price For Freedom Through The Day. At This Good Matron's Hut The Children Meet, Who Thus Becomes The Mother Of The Street.