Age Shakes Athena's Tower, But Spares Gray

Venice Once Was Dear, The Pleasant Place Of All Festivity, The Revel Of The Earth, The Masque Of Italy.

Go Let Thy Less Than Woman's Hand Assume The Distaff Not The Brand.

There Is Music In All Things, If Men Had Ears.

For Pleasures Past I Do Not Grieve, Nor Perils Gathering Near; My Greatest Grief Is That I Leave Nothing That Claims A Tear.

Perhaps The Early Grave Which Men Weep Over May Be Meant To Save.