Can I See A Falling Tear, And

Man Was Made For Joy And Woe, And When This We Rightly Know Through The World We Safely Go. Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine, A Clothing For The Soul To Bind.

O Why Was I Born With A Different Face? Why Was I Not Born Like The Rest Of My Race?

The Pride Of The Peacock Is The Glory Of God.

The Look Of Love Alarms Because 'tis Filled With Fire; But The Look Of Soft Deceit Shall Win The Lover's Hire.

He Who Would Do Good To Another Must Do It In Minute Particulars.