A Careless Shoe String, In Whose Tie

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

When The Artless Doctor Sees No One Hope, But Of His Fees, And His Skill Runs On The Lees; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me! When His Potion And His Pill, Has, Or None, Or Little Skill, Meet For Nothing, But To Kill; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

Rise And Put On Your Foliage, And Be Seen To Come Forth, Like The Spring-time, Fresh And Green, And Sweet As Flora. Take No Care For Jewels For Your Gown Or Hair Fear Not; The Leaves Will Strew Gems In Abundance Upon You Besides, The Childhood Of The Day Has Kept, Against You Come, Some Orient Pearls Unwept. Come, And Receive Them While The Light Hangs On The Dew-locks Of The Night And Titan On The Eastern Hill Retires Himself, Or Else Stands Still Till You Come Forth! Wash, Dress, Be Brief In Praying Few Beads Are Best When Once We Go A-maying.

Her Eyes The Glowworm Lend Thee, The Shooting Stars Attend Thee; And The Elves Also, Whose Little Eyes Glow Like The Sparks Of Fire, Befriend Thee.

I'll Write, Because I'll Give - You Critics Means To Live; For Should I Not Supply - The Cause, The Effect Would Die