We Must, Therefore, Be Here As Strangers

Sin And Shame Ever Go Together; He That Would Be Freed From The Last Must Be Sure To Shun The Company Of The First.

When I Behold The Heavens As In Their Prime, And Then The Earth (though Old) Still Clad In Green, The Stones And Trees, Insensible Of Time, Nor Age Nor Wrinkle On Their Front Are Seen

Some Laborers Have Hard Hands, And Old Sinners Have Brawny Consciences.

I Am Obnoxious To Each Carping Tongue/ Who Says My Hand A Needle Better Fits./ A Poet's Pen All Scorn I Should Thus Wrong/ For Such Despite They Cast On Female Wits;/ If What I Do Prove Well, It Won't Advance,/ They'll Say It's Stolen, Or Else, It Was By Chance.

If What I Do Prove Well, It Won't Advance. They'll Say It's Stolen, Or Else It Was By Chance.