One Cannot Say He Wanted Wit, But

He Is A Perpetual Fountain Of Good Sense.

Death Only This Mysterious Truth Unfolds, The Mighty Soul How Small A Body Holds.

Calms Appear, When Storms Are Past; Love Will Have His Hour At Last: Nature Is My Kindly Care; Mars Destroys, And I Repair; Take Me, Take Me, While You May, Venus Comes Not Ev'ry Day.

Set All Things In Their Own Peculiar Place, And Know That Order Is The Greatest Grace.

Thoughts Cannot Form Themselves In Words So Horrid As Can Express My Guilt.