Dear As The Light That Visits These

Not All That Tempts Your Wandering Eyes And Heedless Hearts, Is Lawful Prize; Nor All That Glisters Gold.

Now As The Paradisiacal Pleasures Of The Mahometans Consist In Playing Upon The Flute And Lying With Houris, Be Mine To Read Eternal New Romances Of Marivaux And Crebillon.

Youth Smiles Without Any Reason. It Is One Of Its Chiefest Charms.

The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow, Chastis'd By Sabler Tints Of Woe.

The Curfew Tolls The Knell Of Parting Day, The Lowing Herd Winds Slowly O'er The Lea, The Ploughman Homeward Plods His Weary Way, And Leaves The World To Darkness And To Me.