Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast. - Thomas Gray

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters gold.

No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.