All The Bloomy Flush Of

A Man He Was To All The Country Dear, And Passing Rich With Forty Pounds A Year.

The Bounds Of A Man's Knowledge Are Easily Concealed, If He Has But Prudence.

Those Who Think Must Govern Those That Toil.

The Whitewash'd Wall, The Nicely Sanded Floor, The Varnish'd Clock That Click'd Behind The Door; The Chest, Contriv'd A Double Debt To Pay,- A Bed By Night, A Chest Of Drawers By Day.

In All My Wanderings Round This World Of Care, In All My Griefs-and God Has Given My Share- I Still Had Hopes My Latest Hours To Crown, Amidst These Humble Bowers To Lay Me Down.