In Every Age And Clime We See

The Careful Insect 'midst His Works I View, Now From The Flowers Exhaust The Fragrant Dew, With Golden Treasures Load His Little Thighs, And Steer His Distant Journey Through The Skies.

Breathe Soft, Ye Winds! Ye Waves, In Silence Sleep!

Were I Laid On Greenland's Coast, And In My Arms Embrac'd My Lass; Warm Amidst Eternal Frost, Too Soon The Half Year's Night Would Pass.

Fair Is The Marigold, For Pottage Meet.

In Every Age And Clime We See Two Of A Trade Can Never Agree.