Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.
The bliss even of a moment still is bliss.
Oh swiftly glides the bonnie boat, Just parted from the shore, And to the fisher's chorus-note Soft moves the dipping oar.
Pampered vanity is a better thing perhaps than starved pride.
I believe this earth on which we stand is but the vestibule to glorious mansions through which a moving crowd forever press.
Ah! happy is the man whose early lot Hath made him master of a furnish'd cot; Who trains the vine that round his window grows, And after setting sun his garden hoes; Whose wattled pails his own enclosure shield, Who toils not daily in another's field.