If You Keep A Thing Seven Years,

I Will Suppose That You Have No Friends To Share Or Rejoice In Your Success In Life — That You Cannot Look Back To Those To Whom You Owe Gratitude, Or Forward To Those To Whom You Ought To Afford Protection; But It Is No Less Incumbent On You To Move Steadily In The Path Of Duty — For Your Active Exertions Are Due Not Only To Society, But In Humble Titude To The Being Who Made You A Member Of It, With Powers To Serve Yourself And Others.

'tis An Old Tale, And Often Told; But Did My Fate And Wish Agree, Ne'er Had Been Read, In Story Old, Of Maiden True Betray'd For Gold, That Loved, Or Was Avenged, Like Me!

Merrily, Merrily Goes The Bark On A Breeze From The Northward Free, So Shoots Through The Morning Sky The Lark, Or The Swan Through The Summer Sea.

Adversity Is Like The Period Of The Rain. . . Cold, Comfortless, Unfriendly To People And To Animals; Yet From That Season Have Their Birth The Flower, The Fruit, The Date, The Rose And The Pomegranate.

Breathes There The Man, With Soul So Dead, Who Never To Himself Hath Said, This Is My Own, My Native Land! Whose Heart Hath Ne'er Within Him Burn'd, As Home His Footsteps He Hath Turn'd From Wandering On A Foreign Strand! If Such There Breathe, Go Mark Him Well; For Him No Minstrel Raptures Swell; High Though His Titles, Proud His Name, Boundless His Wealth As Wish Can Claim; Despite Those Titles, Power, And Pelf, The Wretch, Concentred All In Self, Living, Shall Forfeit Fair Renown, And, Doubly Dying, Shall Go Down To The Vile Dust, From Whence He Sprung, Unwept, Unhonor'd, And Unsung.