“We search the world for truth; We cull the good, the pure, the beautiful, From all old flower fields of the soul; And weary seekers of the best, We come back laden from our quest, To find that all the sages said, Is in the Book our mothers read”
“Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.”
“They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished; and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.”
