The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.

This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty; such as lurks In some wild poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.

The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man, And the man said, "Am I your debtor?" And the Lord--"Not yet: but make it as clean as you can, And then I will let you a better.

Bible reading is an education in itself.

O last regret, regret can die!

All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.