A Lazy Frost, A Numbness Of The

I Feel My Sinews Slackened With The Fright, And A Cold Sweat Trills Down All Over My Limbs, As If I Were Dissolving Into Water.

Who Climbs The Grammar-tree, Distinctly Knows Where Noun, And Verb, And Participle Grows.

Softly Sweet, In Lydian Measures, Soon He Sooth'd His Soul To Pleasures. War, He Sung, Is Toil And Trouble; Honour But An Empty Bubble; Never Ending, Still Beginning, Fighting Still, And Still Destroying. If All The World Be Worth The Winning, Think, Oh Think It Worth Enjoying: Lovely Thais Sits Beside Thee, Take The Good The Gods Provide Thee.

Better To Hunt In Fields, For Health Unbought, Than Fee The Doctor For A Nauseous Draught, The Wise, For Cure, On Exercise Depend; God Never Made His Work For Man To Mend.

An Hour Will Come, With Pleasure To Relate Your Sorrows Past, As Benefits Of Fate.