Sweet Bird That Shunn'st The Nose Of

Who Reads Incessantly, And To His Reading Brings Not A Spirit And Judgment Equal Or Superior, (and What He Brings What Need He Elsewhere Seek?) Uncertain And Unsettled Still Remains, Deep Versed In Books And Shallow In Himself, Crude Or Intoxicate, Collecting Toys And Trifles For Choice Matters, Worth A Sponge, As Children Gathering Pebbles On The Shore.

Therefore, If At Great Things Thou Wouldst Arrive, Get Riches First, Get Wealth.

Give Me The Liberty To Know, To Utter, And To Argue Freely According To Conscience, Above All Liberties.

But Hail Thou Goddess Sage And Holy, Hail, Divinest Melancholy, Whose Saintly Visage Is Too Bright To Hit The Sense Of Human Sight, And Therefore To Our Weaker View O'erlaid With Black, Staid Wisdom's Hue.

The Winds With Wonder Whist, Smoothly The Waters Kisst.