England! My Country, Great And

It Is Much Less What We Do Than What We Think, Which Fits Us For The Future.

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.

Man Is A Military Animal, Glories In Gunpowder, And Loves Parade.

The Ground Of All Great Thoughts Is Sadness.

O, There Is Naught On Earth Worth Being Known But God And Our Own Souls!