The wealthiest man among us is the best
Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore; Plain living and high thinking are no more.
Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.