All Hope Is Lost Of

A Good Book Is The Precious Lifeblood Of A Master Spirit.

On The Tawny Sands And Shelves Trip The Pert Fairies And The Dapper Elves.

Among Unequals What Society Can Sort, What Harmony, Or True Delight?

Virtue Could See To Do What Virtue Would By Her Own Radiant Light, Though Sun And Moon Were In The Flat Sea Sunk. And Wisdom's Self Oft Seeks To Sweet Retired Solitude, Where With Her Best Nurse Contemplation She Plumes Her Feathers And Lets Grow Her Wings, That In The Various Bustle Of Resort Were All-to Ruffled, And Sometimes Impair'd. He That Has Light Within His Own Clear Breast May Sit I' Th' Centre And Enjoy Bright Day; But He That Hides A Dark Soul And Foul Thoughts Benighted Walks Under The Midday Sun.

He 's Gone, And Who Knows How He May Report Thy Words By Adding Fuel To The Flame?