When The New Light Which We Beg

For No Falsehood Can Endure Touch Of Celestial Temper.

Come And Trip It As Ye Go On The Light Fantastic Toe.

With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears.

O Fairest Flower! No Sooner Blown But Blasted, Soft Silken Primrose Fading Timelessly.

Truth And Understanding Are Not Such Wares As To Be Monopolized And Traded In By Tickets And Statutes And Standards. We Must Not Think To Make A Staple Commodity Of All The Knowledge In The Land, To Mark And License It Like Our Broadcloth And Our Woolpacks.