Perhaps Thou Gav'st Me, Though

Not To Understand A Treasure's Worth Till Time Has Stole Away The Slighted Good, Is Cause Of Half The Poverty We Feel, And Makes The World The Wilderness It Is.

This Fond Attachment To The Well-known Place Whence First We Started Into Life's Long Race, Maintains Its Hold With Such Unfailing Sway, We Feel It E'en In Age, And At Our Latest Day.

[my Kitten's] Gambols Are Not To Be Described, And Would Be Incredible, If They Could.

Great Offices Will Have Great Talents, And God Gives To Every Man The Virtue, Temper, Understanding, Taste, That Lifts Him Into Life, And Lets Him Fall Just In The Niche He Was Ordained To Fill.

How Shall I Speak Thee, Or Thy Power Address Thou God Of Our Idolatry, The Press. . . . . Like Eden's Dead Probationary Tree, Knowledge Of Good And Evil Is From Thee.