But Dying Is A Pleasure / When

Uncertain Whose The Narrowest Span,--the Clown Unread, Or Half-read Gentleman.

She, Though In Full-blown Flower Of Glorious Beauty, Grows Cold Even In The Summer Of Her Age.

No King Nor Nation One Moment Can Retard The Appointed Hour.

Softly Sweet, In Lydian Measures, Soon He Sooth'd His Soul To Pleasures. War, He Sung, Is Toil And Trouble; Honour But An Empty Bubble; Never Ending, Still Beginning, Fighting Still, And Still Destroying. If All The World Be Worth The Winning, Think, Oh Think It Worth Enjoying: Lovely Thais Sits Beside Thee, Take The Good The Gods Provide Thee.

And Love's The Noblest Frailty Of The Mind.