Who Pants For Glory, Finds But Short

See Plastic Nature Working To This End, The Single Atoms Each To Other Tend, Attract, Attracted To, The Next In Place Form'd And Impell'd Its Neighbor To Embrace.

Whoe'er He Be That Tells My Faults, I Hate Him Mortally.

Lulled In The Countless Chambers Of The Brain, Our Thoughts Are Linked By Many A Hidden Chain; Awake But One, And In, What Myriads Rise!

Be Thou The First True Merit To Befriend, His Praise Is Lost Who Stays Till All Commend.

And Write About It, Goddess, And About It!