Spring Hangs Her Infant Blossoms

A Fool Must Now And Then Be Right, By Chance

To Trace In Nature's Most Minute Design The Signature And Stamp Of Power Divine. ... The Invisible In Things Scarce Seen Revealed, To Whom An Atom Is An Ample Field.

Go, Mark The Matchless Working Of The Power That Shuts Within The Seed The Future Flower; Bids These In Elegance Of Form Excel. In Color These, And Those Delight The Smell; Sends Nature Forth, The Daughter Of The Skies, To Dance On Earth, And Charm All Human Eyes.

He That Runs May Read.

Oh To Have A Lodge In Some Vast Wilderness. Where Rumors Of Oppression And Deceit, Of Unsuccessful And Successful Wars May Never Reach Me Anymore.