Praises reap not! Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every Child may joy to hear.
Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.
Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime
The cut worm forgives the plow.