Pure Friendship's Well-feigned Blush.

Ye Stars! Which Are The Poetry Of Heaven!

Think You, If Laura Had Been Petrarch's Wife, He Would Have Written Sonnets All His Life?.

Now I Shall Go To Sleep. Goodnight.

A Quiet Conscience Makes One So Serene.

Just As Old Age Is Creeping On Space, And Clouds Come O'er The Sunset Of Our Day, They Kindly Leave Us, Though Not Quite Alone, But In Good Company--the Gout Or Stone.