As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow; Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.

Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.

Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.

The budding rose above the rose full blown.

Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.

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

Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.