Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Our judgments, like our watches, none go just alike, yet each believes his own
So upright Quakers please both man and God.
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!
A tree is a nobler object than a prince in his coronation-robes.
Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.