So Wise So Young, They Say, Do

Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue.

In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility.

Graze On My Lips; And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

I Am Not Of That Feather, To Shake Off My Friend When He Must Need Me

Some Say That Ever 'gainst The Season Comes Wherein Our Saviour's Birth Is Celebrated, The Bird Of Dawning Singeth All Night Long: And Then, They Say, No Spirit Can Walk Abroad; The Nights Are Wholesome; Then No Planets Strike, No Fairy Takes, Nor Wi