That Each From Other Differs, First Confess;

Leave Not A Foot Of Verse, A Foot Of Stone, A Page, A Grave, That They Can Call Their Own; But Spread, My Sons, Your Glory Thin Or Thick, On Passive Paper, Or On Solid Brick.

On Wrongs Swift Vengeance Waits.

Who Dare To Love Their Country, And Be Poor.

The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heartfelt Joy.

Music The Fiercest Grief Can Charm, And Fate's Severest Rage Disarm. Music Can Soften Pain To Ease, And Make Despair And Madness Please; Our Joys Below It Can Improve, And Antedate The Bliss Above.