"Maintain a constant watch at all times against a dogmatical spirit: fix not your assent to any proposition in a firm and unalterable manner, till you have some firm and unalterable ground for it, and till you have arrived at some clear and sure evidence."

"Then will I set my heart to find Inward adornings of the mind; Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace, These are the robes of richest dress."

"I have been there, and still would go; 'T is like a little heaven below."

"Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Bears all its sons away; They fly forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day."

"In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do."

"In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last."

"How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower!"

"Birds in their little nests agree; And 'tis a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight."

"The wise will make their anger cool At least before 'tis night."

"Why should our garments, made to hide Our parents' shame, provoke our pride? The art of dress did ne'er begin, Till Eve our mother learn'd to sin.When first she put the covering on, Her robe of innocence was gone; And yet her children vainly boast In the sad marks of glory lost."

"But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes."

"And he that does one fault at first And lies to hide it, makes it two."

"...but every lyar Must have his portion in the lake That burns with brimstone and with fire."

"One stroke of his almighty rod Shall send young sinners quick to hell."

"Let me be dressed fine as I will, Flies, worms, and flowers, exceed me still."

"Fly, like a youthful hart or roe, Over the hills where spices grow."

"A flower may fade before 'tis noon, And I this day may lose my breath."

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 't is their nature too."

"Whene'er I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see! What shall I render to my God For all his gifts to me?"

"I would not change my native land For rich Peru with all her gold. A nobler prize lies in my hand Than East or Western Indies hold."

"There's not a place where we can flee, But God is present there."

"I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost: And yet I am, and live with shadows tost"

"Were I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean with my span, I must be measured by my soul; The mind's the standard of the man."

"Lord, I ascribe it to thy grace, And not to chance as others do, That I was born of Christian race, And not a Heathen, or a Jew."

"I love to see the old heath's withered brake Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling, While the old heron from the lonely lake Starts slow and flaps its melancholy wing"

"This world has suns, but they are overcast; This world has sweets, but they're of ling'ring bloom; Life still expects, and empty falls at last; Warm Hope on tiptoe drops into the tomb."

"To-morrow comes, true copy of to-day, And empty shadow of what is to be; Yet cheated Hope on future still depends, And ends but only when our being ends."

"O how I feel, just as I pluck the flower And stick it to my breast — words can't reveal; But there are souls that in this lovely hour Know all I mean, and feel whate'er I feel."

"Just as a tree cut down, that fell To north, or southward, there it lies: So man departs to heaven or hell, Fix'd in the state wherein he dies."

"I hid my love when young till I Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly; I hid my love to my despite Till I could not bear to look at light: I dare not gaze upon her face But left her memory in each place; Where eer I saw a wild flower lie I kissed and bade my love good bye."

"I hid my love in field and town Till een the breeze would knock me down, The bees seemed singing ballads oer, The fly's bass turned a lion's roar; And even silence found a tongue, To haunt me all the summer long; The riddle nature could not prove Was nothing else but secret love."

"The ivyed oaks dark shadow falls Oft picking up with wondering gaze Some little thing of other days Saved from the wreck of time."

"Throw not my words away, as many do; They're gold in value, though they're cheap to you."

"And what's more wonderful, when big loads foil One ant or two to carry, quickly then A swarm flock round to help their fellow-men."

"And don't despise your betters cause they're old."

"Superstition lives longer than books, it is engraved on the human mind 'til it becomes a part of its existence."

"And what is Life? — An hour-glass on the run,"

"In politics and politicians' lies The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise; Opinionates with wisdom all compact, And een could tell a nation how to act; Throws light on darkness with excessive skill, Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill, Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools, And calls the past a dull dark age of fools."

"Fashion is her favourite disciple."

"Arts may ply fantastic anatomy but nature is always herself in her wildest moods of extravagence."

"When trouble haunts me, need I sigh? No, rather smile away despair;"

"A flower, when offered in the bud, Is no vain sacrifice."

"Popularity is a hasty and busy talker, she catches hold of topics and offers them to fame without giving herself time to reflect whether they are true or false."

"And while the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return."

"Strange that a harp of thousand strings Should keep in tune so long!"

"The plunging limbers over the shattered track Racketed with their rusty freight, Stuck out like many crowns of thorns, And the rusty stakes like sceptres old To stay the flood of brutish men Upon our brothers dear.The wheels lurched over sprawled dead But pained them not, though their bones crunched, Their shut mouths made no moan. They lie there huddled, friend and foeman, Man born of man, and born of woman, And shells go crying over them From night till night and now.Earth has waited for them, All the time of their growth Fretting for their decay: Now she has them at last! In the strength of their strength Suspended—stopped and held."

"Nudes -- stark and glistening, Yelling in lurid glee. Grinning faces And raging limbs Whirl over the floor one fire. For a shirt verminously busy Yon soldier tore from his throat, with oaths Godhead might shrink at, but not the lice. And soon the shirt was aflare Over the candle he'd lit while we lay.Then we all sprang up and stript To hunt the verminous brood. Soon like a demons' pantomine The place was raging. See the silhouettes agape, See the glibbering shadows Mixed with the battled arms on the wall. See gargantuan hooked fingers Pluck in supreme flesh To smutch supreme littleness. See the merry limbs in hot Highland fling Because some wizard vermin Charmed from the quiet this revel When our ears were half lulled By the dark music Blown from Sleep's trumpet."

"Snow is a strange white word. No ice or frost Has asked of bud or bird For Winter's cost. Yet ice and frost and snow From earth to sky This Summer land doth know. No man knows why. In all men's hearts it is. Some spirit old Hath turned with malign kiss Our lives to mould. Red fangs have torn His face. God's blood is shed. He mourns from His lone place His children dead. O! ancient crimson curse Corrode, consume. Give back this universe Its pristine bloom."

"The darkness crumbles away. It is the same old druid Time as ever, Only a live thing leaps my hand, A queer sardonic rat, As I pull the parapet's poppy To stick behind my ear. Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew Your cosmopolitan sympathies. Now you have touched this English hand You will do the same to a German Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure To cross the sleeping green between. It seems you inwardly grin as you pass Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes, Less chanced than you for life, Bonds to the whims of murder, Sprawled in the bowels of the earth, The torn fields of France. What do you see in our eyes At the shrieking iron and flame Hurled through still heavens ? What quaver--what heart aghast? Poppies whose roots are in man's veins Drop, and are ever dropping; But mine in my ear is safe-- Just a little white with the dust."

"In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire, Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned! His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls The world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled cat To him. On fragments of an old shrunk power, On shy and maimed, on women wrung awry He lay, a bullying hulk, to crush them more. But when one, fearless, turned and clawed like bronze, Cringing was easy to blunt these stern paws, And he would weigh the heavier on those after. Who rests in God's mean flattery now? Your wealth Is but his cunning to make death more hard. Your iron sinews take more pain in breaking. And he has made the market for your beauty Too poor to buy, although you die to sell. Only that he has never heard of sleep; And when the cats come out the rats are sly. Here we are safe till he slinks in at dawn. But he has gnawed a fibre from strange roots, And in the morning some pale wonder ceases. Things are not strange and strange things are forgetful. Ah! if the day were arid, somehow lost Out of us, but it is as hair of us, And only in the hush no wind stirs it. And in the light vague trouble lifts and breathes, And restlessness still shadows the lost ways. The fingers shut on voices that pass through, Where blind farewells are taken easily . . . Ah! this miasma of a rotting God!"