Art Indeed Is Long, But Life Is

Ye Country Comets, That Portend No War, Nor Prince's Funeral, Shining Unto No Higher End Than To Presage The Grasses Fall. . . .

The World In All Doth But Two Nations Bear- The Good, The Bad; And These Mixed Everywhere.

And All The Way, To Guide Their Chime, With Falling Oars They Kept Their Time.

How Could Such Sweet And Wholesome Hours Be Reckoned, But In Herbs And Flowers?

Thus, Though We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run