Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.

And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.

We live by admiration, hope and love.

The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!

Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.