Write To The Mind And Heart, And

And These Are Joys, Like Beauty, But Skin Deep.

Look On The Bee Upon The Wing 'mong Flowers; How Brave, How Bright His Life! Then Mark, Him Hiv'd, Cramp'd, Cringing In His Self-built, Social Cell, Thus It Is In The World-hive; Most Where Men Lie Deep In Cities As In Drifts.

As The Master So The Valet.

Error Is Worse Than Ignorance.

The Dew, 'tis Of The Tears Which Stars Weep, Sweet With Joy.