Virtue Is Presupposed In Friendship.

Piety--warm, Soft, And Passive As The Ether Round The Throne Of Grace--is Made Callous And Inactive By Kneeling Too Much.

Fame Often Rests At First Upon Something Accidental, And Often, Too, Is Swept Away, Or For A Time Removed; But Neither Genius Nor Glory, Is Conferred At Once, Nor Do They Glimmer And Fall, Like Drops In A Grotto, At A Shout.

I See The Rainbow In The Sky, The Dew Upon The Grass; I See Them, And I Ask Not Why They Glimmer Or They Pass. With Folded Arms I Linger Not To Call Them Back; 'twere Vain: In This, Or In Some Other Spot, I Know They'll Shine Again.

I Warmed Both Hands Before The Fire Of Life; It Sinks, And I Am Ready To Depart.

Nature I Loved, And Next To Nature, Art.