What Reason Weaves, By Passion

Absent Or Dead, Still Let A Friend Be Dear.

O Peace! How Many Wars Were Waged In Thy Name.

The Muse But Serv'd To Ease Some Friend, Not Wife, / To Help Me Through This Long Disease, My Life.

The Season When To Come, And When To Go, To Sing, Or Cease To Sing, We Never Know.

Where'er You Walk Cool Gales Shall Fan The Glade, Trees Where You Sit Shall Crowd Into A Shade. Where'er You Tread The Blushing Flowers Shall Rise, And All Things Flourish Where You Turn Your Eyes.