For What Is Glory But The Blaze

Did I Request Thee, Maker, From My Clay To Mould Me Man? Did I Solicit Thee From Darkness To Promote Me?

Opinion In Good Men Is But Knowledge In The Making.

Now I See Peace To Corrupt No Less Than War To Waste.

Equally Inured By Moderation Either State To Bear, Prosperous Or Adverse.

And On The Tree Of Life, The Middle Tree And Highest There That Grew, Sat Like A Cormorant.