Then Be Not Coy, But Use Your

The Body Is The Soul's Poor House Or Home, Whose Ribs The Laths Are And Whose Flesh The Loam.

Men Are Suspicious; Prone To Discontent: Subjects Still Loathe The Present Government.

Let's Live With That Small Pittance Which We Have; Who Covets More Is Evermore A Slave.

I Dare Not Ask A Kiss; I Dare Not Beg A Smile; Lest Having That Or This, I Might Grow Proud The While. No, No, The Utmost Share Of My Desire Shall Be Only To Kiss That Air, That Lately Kissed Thee.

The Glorious Lamp Of Heaven, The Sun.