Our Peace Shall Stand As Firm As

A Light Heart Lives Long.

But Shall We Wear These Glories For A Day? Or Shall They Last, And We Rejoice In Them?

All That Glitters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told: Many A Man His Life Has Sold But My Outside To Behold: Gilded Tombs Do Worms Enfold Had You Been As Wise As Bold, Your In Limbs, In Judgment Old, Your Answer Had Not Been In'scroll'd Fare You Well: Your Suit Is Cold.' Cold, Indeed, And Labour Lost: Then, Farewell, Heat And Welcome, Frost!

And Yet, By Heaven, I Think My Love As Rare As Any She Belied With False Compare.

The Teeming Autumn Big With Rich Increase, Bearing The Wanton Burden Of The Prime Like Widowed Wombs After Their Lords Decease.