Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room; And hermits are contented with their cells.
Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.
Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.