No Scene Of Mortal Life But Teems

Thus Aged Men, Full Loth And Slow, The Vanities Of Life Forego, And Count Their Youthful Follies O'er, Till Memory Lends Her Light No More.

Cats Are A Mysterious Kind Of Folk.

Lightly From Fair To Fair He Flew, And Loved To Plead, Lament, And Sue; Suit Lightly Won, And Short-lived Pain, For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.

He That Would Soothe Sorrow Must Not Argue On The Vanity Of The Most Deceitful Hopes.

When True Friends Meet In Adverse Hour; 'tis Like A Sunbeam Through A Shower. A Watery Way An Instant Seen, The Darkly Closing Clouds Between.