When anger rushes, unrestrain'd to action,Like a hot steed, it stumbles in its way:The man of thought strikes deepest, and strikes safest.
Westward the course of empire takes its way;The four first acts already past,A fifth shall close the drama with the day:Time's noblest offspring is the last.
I hied me off to Arcady—The month it was the month of May,And all along the pleasant way,The morning birds were mad with glee,And all the flowers sprang up to see,As I went on to Arcady.louise chandler moulton
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