The Day For Whose Returns, And Many,

A Lily Of A Day Is Fairer Far In May, Although It Fall And Die That Night, It Was The Plant And Flower Of Light. In Small Proportions We Just Beauties See, And In Short Measures Life May Perfect Be.

Ambition, Like A Torrent, Ne'er Looks Back; And Is A Swelling, And The Last Affection A High Mind Can Put Off; Being Both A Rebel Unto The Soul And Reason, And Enforceth All Laws, All Conscience, Treads Upon Religion, And Offereth Violence To Nature's Self.

Minds That Are Great And Free, Should Not On Fortune Pause: 'tis Crown Enough To Virtue Still, Her Own Applause.

Nor For My Peace Will I Go Far, As Wanderers Do, That Still Do Roam, But Make My Strengths, Such As They Are, Here In My Bosom, And At Home.

He That Would Have His Virtue Published, Is Not The Servant Of Virtue, But Glory.