Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining.

I On The Other Side Us'd No Ambition To Commend My Deeds; The Deeds Themselves, Though Mute, Spoke Loud The Doer.

Hung Over Her Enamour'd, And Beheld Beauty, Which, Whether Waking Or Asleep, Shot Forth Peculiar Graces.

The Leaf Was Darkish, And Had Prickles On It, But In Another Country, As He Said, Bore A Bright Golden Flow'r, But Not In This Soil; Unknown, And Like Esteem'd, And The Dull Swain Treads On It Daily With His Clouted Shoon.

But That From Us Aught Should Ascend To Heav'n So Prevalent As To Concern The Mind Of God, High-bless'd, Or To Incline His Will, Hard To Belief May Seem; Yet This Will Prayer.

Hide Me From Day's Garish Eye, While The Bee With Honied Thigh, That At Her Flowery Work Doth Sing, And The Waters Murmuring With Such Consort As They Keep, Entice The Dewy-feathered Sleep.