The Great Emathian Conqueror Bid Spare The

And Now The Herald Lark Left His Ground-nest, High Tow'ring To Descry The Morn's Approach, And Greet Her With His Song.

Yet Once More, O Ye Laurels, And Once More Ye Myrtles Brown, With Ivy Never Sere, I Come To Pluck Your Berries Harsh And Crude, And With Forced Fingers Rude Shatter Your Leaves Before The Mellowing Year.

Gratitude Bestows Reverence, Allowing Us To Encounter Everyday Epiphanies.

I Did But Prompt The Age To Quit Their Clogs By The Known Rules Of Ancient Liberty, When Straight A Barbarous Noise Environs Me Of Owls And Cuckoos, Asses, Apes And Dogs.

Time, Though In Eternity, Applied To Motion, Measures All Things Durable By Present, Past, And Future.