If We Had Not Winter, The Spring

And Time Brings Down What Is Both Strong And Tall. But Plants New Set To Be Eradicate, And Buds New Blown, To Have So Short A Date, Is By His Hand Alone That Guides Nature And Fate.

I Am Obnoxious To Each Carping Tongue/ Who Says My Hand A Needle Better Fits./ A Poet's Pen All Scorn I Should Thus Wrong/ For Such Despite They Cast On Female Wits;/ If What I Do Prove Well, It Won't Advance,/ They'll Say It's Stolen, Or Else, It Was By Chance.

My Hope And Treasure Lies Above

He That Would Be Content With A Mean Condition Must Not Cast His Eye Upon One That Is In A Far Better Estate Than Himself, But Let Him Look Upon Him That Is Lower Than He Is, And, If He See That Such A One Bears Poverty Comfortably, It Will Help To Quiet Him.

When I Behold The Heavens As In Their Prime, And Then The Earth (though Old) Still Clad In Green, The Stones And Trees, Insensible Of Time, Nor Age Nor Wrinkle On Their Front Are Seen