Gentle And Low, An Excellent Thing In

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

Tis No Sin For A Man To Labor In His Vocation.

Women Are Not In Their Best Fortunes Strong, But Want Will Perjure The Ne'er-touched Vestal.

I Know A Place Where The Wild Thyme Blows, Where Oxlips And The Nodding Violet Grows.

In Right And Service To Their Noble Country.