A Careless Shoe String, In Whose Tie

When Words We Want, Love Teacheth To Indite; And What We Blush To Speak, She Bids Us Write.

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.

And As This Round (ring) Is Nowhere Found To Flaw, Or Else To Sever. So Let Our Love As Endless Prove And Pure As Gold Forever.

Give Me A Kiss, And To That Kiss A Score: Then To That Twenty, Add A Hundred More.

It Is An Active Flame That Fliesfirst To The Babies In The Eyes.