And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.

As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.

Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.

O peace! how many wars were waged in thy name.

Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.

All looks yellow to the jaundiced eye. [and therefore the solution is to fix the jaundiced eye.]

Wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense!