Thought Would Destroy Their Paradise.

T'was Spring, T'was Summer, All Was Gay Now Autumn Bears A Cloud Brow The Flowers Of Spring Are Swept Way And Summer Fruits Desert The Bough

Can Honor's Voice Provoke The Silent Dust, Or Flattery Soothe The Dull, Cold Ear Of Death?

Large Was His Bounty, And His Soul Sincere, Heaven Did A Recompense As Largely Send: He Gave To Mis'ry (all He Had) A Tear, He Gained From Heav'n ('t Was All He Wish'd) A Friend.

Ah, Tell Them They Are Men!

If The Best Man's Faults Were Written On His Forehead, He Would Draw His Hat Over His Eyes.