Joys As Winged Dreams Fly Fast, /

Come, Sing Now, Sing; For I Know You Sing Well; I See You Have A Singing Face.

Tyranny Is Yielding To The Lust Of The Governing.

A Woman Friend! He That Believes That Weakness, Steers In A Stormy Night Without A Compass.

We Must Not Be Content To Be Cleansed From Sin; We Must Be Filled With The Spirit.

Hence, All You Vain Delights, As Short As Are The Nights Wherein You Spend Your Folly! There's Naught In This Life Sweet But Only Melancholy; O Sweetest Melancholy!