I counsel thee, shut not thy heart, nor thy library.
Cultivate simplicity, Coleridge.
My only books Were woman's looks,- And folly 's all they 've taught me.
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!
The beggar wears all colors fearing none.
He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.