Yon Rosebuds In The Morning-dew, How Pure

Here's To Us, Who's Like Us Damn Few, And They're All Dead.

Or Like The Snow Falls In The River, A Moment White-then Melts For Ever . . .

Oh, Stay, Sweet Warbling Woodlark, Stay, Nor Quit For Me The Trembling Spray, A Hapless Lover Courts Thy Lay, Thy Soothing, Fond Complaining.

When Nature Her Great Masterpiece Designed,and Framed Her Last, Best Work, The Human Mind,her Eye Intent On All The Wondrous Plan,she Formed Of Various Stuff The Various Man.

The Upright, Honest-hearted Man Who Strives To Do The Best He Can, Need Never Fear The Church's Ban Or Hell's Damnation.