Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.

And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.

Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future.

There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.

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.

Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.

Delivered from the galling yoke of time.