The meanest flowret of the vale, / The simplest note that swells the gale, / The common sun, the air, and skies, / To him are opening paradise.

Far from the sun and summer-gale, / In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid.

In climes beyond the solar road.

The Attic warbler pours her throat, / Responsive to the cuckoo's note.

Perjury is the basest and meanest and most cowardly of crimes. What can it do? Perjury can change the common air that we breathe into the axe of an executioner.

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away / To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.