The First And Wisest Of Them All

Can Any Mortal Mixture Of Earth's Mould Breathe Such Divine Enchanting Ravishment?

So May'st Thou Live, Till Like Ripe Fruit Thou Drop Into Thy Mother's Lap.

Come To The Sunset Tree! The Day Is Past And Gone; The Woodman's Axe Lies Free, And The Reaper's Work Is Done.

Nor Jealousy Was Understood, The Injur'd Lover's Hell.

A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Call'd The Paradise Of Fools To Few Unknown.