Can't I Another's Face Commend, Or To

The Hours I Spend With You I Look Upon As Sort Of A Perfumed Garden, A Dim Twilight, And A Fountain Singing To It. You And You Alone Make Me Feel That I Am Alive. Other Men It Is Said Have Seen Angels, But I Have Seen Thee And Thou Art Enough.

Ay, Rail At Gaming - 'tis A Rich Topic, And Affords Noble Declamation. Go, Preach Against It In The City - You'll Find A Congregation In Every Tavern.

The Lot Of Critics Is To Be Remembered By What They Failed To Understand.

Can't I Another's Face Commend, Or To Her Virtues Be A Friend, But Instantly Your Forehead Louers, As If Her Merit Lessen'd Yours?

Beauty Has Wings, And Too Hastily Flies, And Love, Unrewarded, Soon Sickens And Dies.