A Litle Wind Kindles; Much

The House Shows The Owner.

Give Me Simplicity, That I May Live, So Live And Like, That I May Know Thy Ways, Know Them And Practise Them: Then Shall I Give For This Poor Wreath, Give Thee A Crown Of Praise.

Farre Shooting Never Kild Bird.

Who Says That Fictions Only And False Hair Become A Verse? Is There In Truth No Beauty? Is All Good Structure In A Winding Stair?

God, And Parents, And Our Master, Can Never Be Requited.