. . .this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 't is her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.

The Eagle, he was lord above

But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.

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

Death is the quiet haven of us all.

Small service is true service, while it lasts.

The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.