Fears Of Sinning Let In Thoughts Of

Life Is Not Measured By The Time We Live.

Against Her Foes Religion Well Defends Her Sacred Truths, But Often Fears Her Friends.

I Grant Indeed That Fields And Flocks Have Charms, For Him That Gazes Or For Him That Farms.

When Winter Stern, His Gloomy Front Uprears, A Sable Void The Barren Earth Appears; The Meads No More Their Former Verdure Boast, Fast-bound Their Streams, And All Their Beauty Lost; The Herds, The Flocks, In Icy Garments Mourn, And Wildly Murmur For The Spring's Return; From Snow-topp'd Hills The Whirlwinds Keenly Blow, Howl Through The Woods, And Pierce The Vales Below, Through The Sharp Air A Flaky Torrent Flies, Mocks The Slow Sight, And Hides The Gloomy Skies.

To The House Of A Friend If You're Pleased To Retire, You Must All Things Admit, You Must All Things Admire; You Must Pay With Observance The Price Of Your Treat, You Must Eat What Is Praised, And Must Praise What You Eat.