And I am happy when I sing.

Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.

Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.

The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!

Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.

Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.

Meek Walton's heavenly memory.