The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow

Miss not the occasion; by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.

But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.

I'm not talking about a "show me other walls of this thing" button, I mean a "stumble" button for wallbase.

Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.

Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.