E'en From The Tomb The

Thought Would Destroy Their Paradise.

The Time Will Come, When Thou Shalt Lift Thine Eyes To Watch A Long-drawn Battle In The Skies. While Aged Peasants, Too Amazed For Words, Stare At The Flying Fleets Of Wondrous Birds.

Poetry Is Thoughts That Breathe, And Words That Burn.

Some Village Hampden, That With Dauntless Breast The Little Tyrant Of His Fields Withstood, Some Mute Inglorious Milton Here May Rest, Some Cromwell Guiltless Of His Country's Blood.

But Knowledge To Their Eyes Her Ample Page Rich With The Spoils Of Time Did Ne'er Unroll; Chill Penury Repressed Their Noble Rage, And Froze The Genial Current Of The Soul.