Hear How The Birds, On

Who Know But He, Whose Hand The Lightning Forms, Who Heaves Old Ocean, And Who Wings The Storms, Pours Fierce Ambition In A Caesar's Mind.

Do Good By Stealth, And Blush To Find It Fame.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.

To Wake The Soul By Tender Strokes Of Art, To Raise The Genius, And To Mend The Heart

Cavil You May, But Never Criticise.