Pleasure And Action Make The Hours Seem

Hope Is A Lover's Staff; Walk Hence With That And Manage It Against Despairing Thoughts.

I Am Not In The Roll Of Common Men.

Some Falls The Means Are Happier To Rise.

He Is Well Paid That Is Well Satisfied.

There Is A Willow Grows Aslant A Brook, That Shows His Hoar Leaves In The Glassy Stream; There With Fantastic Garlands Did She Come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, And Long Purples That Liberal Shepherds Give A Grosser Name, But Our Cold Maids Do Dead Men's Fingers Call Them: There, On The Pendent Boughs Her Coronet Weeds Clambering To Hang, An Envious Sliver Broke; When Down Her Weedy Trophies And Herself Fell In The Weeping Brook.