Where Doubt There Truth Is - 'tis

Simplicity Is Natures First Step, And The Last Of Art.

The Death-bed Of A Day, How Beautiful!

Evil Then Results From Imperfection.

The Beautiful Are Never Desolate; But Some One Alway Loves Them--god Or Man. If Man Abandons, God Himself Takes Them.

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.