Fair Is The Marigold, For Pottage Meet.

How, Like A Moth, The Simple Maid Still Plays Around The Flame!

How Happy Could I Be With Either, Were T'other Dear Charmer Away!

Variety's The Source Of Joy Below, From Whence Still Fresh-revolving Pleasures Flow, In Books And Love The Mind One End Pursues, And Only Change The Expiring Flames Renews.

My Lodging Is On The Cold Ground, And Hard, Very Hard, Is My Fare, But That Which Grieves Me More Is The Coldness Of My Dear.

No Retreat. No Retreat. They Must Conquer Or Die Who've No Retreat.