Miss not the occasion; by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.
The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!
A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.