The People's Voice Is Odd, It Is,

O Love! For Sylvia Let Me Gain The Prize, And Make My Tongue Victorious As Her Eyes.

Learn To Live Well, Or Fairly Make Your Will; You've Play'd, And Lov'd, And Ate, And Drank Your Fill: Walk Sober Off, Before A Sprightlier Age Comes Titt'ring On, And Shoves You From The Stage.

A Fly, A Grape-stone, Or A Hair Can Kill.

Fear Not The Anger Of The Wise To Raise; Those Best Can Bear Reproof Who Merit Praise.

The Season When To Come, And When To Go, To Sing, Or Cease To Sing, We Never Know.