Highly Fed And Lowly Taught.

I Speak Of Peace, While Covert Enmity Under The Smile Of Safety Wounds The World

And Then He Drew A Dial From His Poke, And Looking With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, 'it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See', Quoth He, 'how The World Wags: 'tis But An Hour Ago Since It Was Nine, And After One Hour More 'twill Be Eleven; And So From Hour To Hour We Ripe And Ripe, And Then From Hour To Hour We Rot And Rot.

Would I Were Dead, If God's Good Will Were So, For What Is In This World But Grief And Woe?

We Cannot All Be Masters.

It Easeth Some, Though None It Ever Cured, To Think Their Dolour Others Have Endured.