I Was Not Born For

Light Quirks Of Music, Broken And Uneven,make The Soul Dance Upon A Jig To Heav'n.

The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits Appear To Ripen.

I Have More Zeal Than Wit.

Who Sees Pale Mammom Pine Amidst His Store, Sees But A Backward Steward For The Poor.

Some Positive Persisting Fops We Know, Who, If Once Wrong, Will Needs Be Always So; But You With Pleasure Own Your Errors Past, And Make Each Day A Critique On The Last.