Our Country Is Where Ever We Are

Such Sober Certainty Of Waking Bliss.

It Was The Winter Wild, While The Heaven-born Child, All Meanly Wrapt In The Rude Manger Lies.

The Conquer'd, Also, And Enslaved By War, Shall, With Their Freedom Lost, All Virtue Lose.

Spirits When They Please Can Either Sex Assume, Or Both.

Sweet Intercourse Of Looks And Smiles; For Smiles From Reason Flow.