A Winning Wave, (deserving Note.) In The

Praise They That Will Times Past, I Joy To See My Selfe Now Live: This Age Best Pleaseth Mee.

Thou Art My Life, My Love, My Heart, The Very Eyes Of Me: And Hast Command Of Every Part To Live And Die For Thee.

The Body Is The Soul's Poor House Or Home, Whose Ribs The Laths Are And Whose Flesh The Loam.

Rise And Put On Your Foliage, And Be Seen To Come Forth, Like The Spring-time, Fresh And Green, And Sweet As Flora. Take No Care For Jewels For Your Gown Or Hair Fear Not; The Leaves Will Strew Gems In Abundance Upon You Besides, The Childhood Of The Day Has Kept, Against You Come, Some Orient Pearls Unwept. Come, And Receive Them While The Light Hangs On The Dew-locks Of The Night And Titan On The Eastern Hill Retires Himself, Or Else Stands Still Till You Come Forth! Wash, Dress, Be Brief In Praying Few Beads Are Best When Once We Go A-maying.

Who With A Little Cannot Be Content, Endures An Everlasting Punishment.