Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.

Wealth and honours, which most men pursue, easily change masters; they desert to the side which excels in virtue, industry, and endurance of toil, and they abandon the slothful.

Where all life dies death lives.

Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.

There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.