Genius has somewhat of the infantine; but of the childish not a touch or taint.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.

The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its best to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up and all the cottage warm.

What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

Who knows most, doubts most.

Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.