When I Was At Home I Was

Love's Stories Written In Love's Richest Books. To Fan The Moonbeams From His Sleeping Eyes.

I Am Now Of All Humors That Have Showed Themselves Humors Since The Old Days Of Goodman Adam To The Pupil Age Of This Present Twelve O'clock At Midnight.

Were It Good To Set The Exact Wealth Of All Our States All At One Cast? To Set So Rich A Main On The Nice Hazard Of One Doubtful Hour? It Were Not Good.

Though Patience Be A Tired Mare, Yet She Will Plod.

I, Thus Neglecting Worldly Ends, All Dedicated To Closeness And The Bettering Of My Mind.