As In An Organ From One Blast

Midnight Shout And Revelry, Tipsy Dance And Jollity.

Day And Night, Seed-time And Harvest, Heat And Hoary Frost Shall Hold Their Course, Till Fire Purge All Things New.

What Reinforcement We May Gain From Hope; If Not, What Resolution From Despair.

I Sat Me Down To Watch Upon A Bank With Ivy Canopied And Interwove With Flaunting Honeysuckle.

Heaven Is For Thee Too High To Know What Passes There; Be Lowly Wise. Think Only What Concerns Thee And Thy Being; Dream Not Of Other Worlds, What Creatures There Live, In What State, Condition, Or Degree, Contented That Thus Far Hath Been Revealed.