Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.

Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.

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

Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.

The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.

Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.

Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.