Beholding The Bright Countenance Of

I Was All Ear, And Took In Strains That Might Create A Soul Under The Ribs Of Death.

As Children Gath'ring Pebbles On The Shore. Or If I Would Delight My Private Hours With Music Or With Poem, Where So Soon As In Our Native Language Can I Find That Solace?

Socrates... Whom Well Inspir'd The Oracle Pronounc'd Wisest Of Men.

With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears.

Beauty Stands In The Admiration Only Of Weak Minds Led Captive.