Gather Ye Rosebuds, While Ye

Tears Are The Noble Language Of Eyes, And When True Love Of Words Is Destitute. The Eye By Tears Speak, While The Tongue Is Mute.

When The Tempter Me Pursueth With The Sins Of All My Youth, And Half Damns Me With Untruth, Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

The Glorious Lamp Of Heaven, The Sun.

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.

God Doth Not Promise Here To Man That Hewill Free Him Quickly From His Misery;but In His Own Time, And When He Thinks Fit,then He Will Give A Happy End To It.