Yet Some There Be That

Beauty Is Nature's Coin, Must Not Be Hoarded, But Must Be Current, And The Good Thereof Consists In Mutual And Partaken Bliss.

Eloquence The Soul, Song Charms The Senses.

Pleas'd Me, Long Choosing And Beginning Late.

Have Hung My Dank And Dropping Weeds To The Stern God Of Sea.

Sense Of Pleasure We May Well Spare Out Of Life Perhaps, And Not Repine, But Live Content, Which Is The Calmest Life; But Pain Is Perfect Misery, The Worst Of Evils, And Excessive, Overturns All Patience.