The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
Pity swells the tide of love.
Men are but men; we did not make ourselves.
Praise, more divine than prayer; prayer points our ready path to heaven; praise is already there.
We cry for mercy to the next amusement, The next amusement mortgages our fields
A land of levity is a land of guilt.