I Am Satisfied To Trifle

Truth Needs Not Flowers Of Speech.

Lo, What Huge Heaps Of Littleness Around!

Who Builds A Church To God And Not To Fame, Will Never Mark The Marble With His Name.

Speed The Soft Intercourse From Soul To Soul, And Waft A Sigh From Indus To The Pole.

Good-nature And Good-sense Must Ever Join; To Err Is Human, To Forgive, Divine.