Fame is the thirst of youth.
Let none think to fly the danger for soon or late love is his own avenger.
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
Land of lost gods and godlike men.
Tis the perception of the beautiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filtered through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull