Seldom Comes Glory Till A Man Be

Our Present Tears Here, Not Our Present Laughter Are But The Handsells Of Our Joys Hereafter.

When Words We Want, Love Teacheth To Indite; And What We Blush To Speak, She Bids Us Write.

A Sweet Disorder In The Dress Kindles In Clothes A Wantonness A Lawn About The Shoulders Thrown Into A Fine Distraction.

It Is An Active Flame That Fliesfirst To The Babies In The Eyes.

Rise And Put On Your Foliage, And Be Seen To Come Forth, Like The Springtime, Fresh And Green