Every Woman Is At Heart A Rake.

What Dire Offence From Am'rous Causes Springs, What Mighty Contests Rise From Trivial Things.

Heaven From All Creatures Hides The Book Of Fate.

The Season When To Come, And When To Go, To Sing, Or Cease To Sing, We Never Know.

The Approach Of Night The Skies Yet Blushing With Departing Light, When Falling Dews With Spangles Deck'd The Glade, And The Low Sun Had Lengthen'd Ev'ry Shade.

All Nature Mourns, The Skies Relent In Showers; Hushed Are The Birds, And Closed The Drooping Flowers.